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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408450">i lay my head with you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/literallyfranzkafka/pseuds/literallyfranzkafka'>literallyfranzkafka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Black Hermione Granger, Body Image, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Lesbian Hermione Granger, Lesbian Pansy Parkinson, Lesbian Sex, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Tutoring, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but pansy definitely does, hermione doesn't know how to dress, she knows how to undress too ;), they're technically both switches</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:36:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,835</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25408450</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/literallyfranzkafka/pseuds/literallyfranzkafka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione spent so much time being a professional that she never learned how to dress like one. It's a good thing that Pansy's whole career is helping people get dressed. And maybe somewhere along the way, she'll be able to undress Hermione too.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oh, I listened to Love Song by Bad Luck a lot while I wrote this and that's kinda where the title comes from so neato. Enjoy the story if you may</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione’s face hurt from how it was pinched in anger, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth set in a grimace. She knew she looked pissed off ever since the elevator opened to let in a tiny intern who let out a squeak when seeing the state of Hermione’s face and the tense hold of her shoulders. Even her fists were balled up so tight that her palms were stinging from blunt nails forcing their way past the skin. And Hermione didn’t look half as angry as she actually was.</p><p> </p><p>She muttered angrily to herself as she stomped down the long hallway five levels under Muggle London. Her steps rang out in the quiet hallway leading to the office of her boss Prescott Hayhurst, British Delegate for the International Confederation of Wizards. He was a very important man, him being one of the most outspoken and bold amongst dozens of other carefully selected delegates from other wizarding countries. But his importance was far outweighed by his audacity, so Hermione didn’t think twice (or even once) as she threw open the office door without knocking.</p><p> </p><p>“Hayhurst!” Hermione shouted as she marched to his desk and leaned down toward him, hands gripping the edge of the desk staring coldly into his eyes, which flickered brightly with what seemed almost like amusement.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Hermione?” Prescott asked and leaned back in his leather office chair with a smile teasing his thin lips.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione huffed and stood up straight, pulling a piece of parchment out of her jean pocket. Taking a deep breath, she began reading from it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Ms. Granger, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Since you have been allowed to attend the International Confederation of Wizards’ annual ball and meeting in Moscow, Russia, we have been watching your day-to-day interactions, wardrobe, and work. While you do well in your work and interactions with other professionals in your workplace, we cannot help but notice that your wardrobe is subpar.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> We do not mean to offend you by writing this letter, but the fact that your workwear is decidedly unprofessional and/or less than the needed level of sophistication considering your job title and the higher-ups you often find yourself associating with professionally needs to be addressed.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> While we may have let this pass during your career which is often secluded to inside the British Ministry and behind a desk, the International Confederation of Wizards’ annual ball and meeting is a very high-class and sophisticated event and that fact should be reflected through your attire. If you would still like to attend the ball and meeting, we duly suggest that you manage to refine your wardrobe and overall aesthetic to be more professional and elegant for the upcoming events. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> We’ll be checking in on you in 3 weeks to make certain that you have updated your wardrobe. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> - Department of Proper Work Attire </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hermione interrupted her reading of the letter with her own thoughts throughout it. <em> What do they mean that they’ve been watching me? I’m astounded that’s even allowed! And without my knowledge no less! </em> she had hissed angrily. <em> Subpar! Just be honest and say utter shite instead, why don’t they? </em> she had said with a roll of her eyes. <em> You know I wasn’t just </em>allowed <em>to attend. The board practically begged me to go to Moscow with you! </em> she had said under her breath. <em> Do they want me to simply buy a whole new closet by the end of next month? That’s absurd, Prescott. Absolutely absurd, </em>she had said, not giving Prescott time at all to answer her </p><p> </p><p>“Prescott Hayhurst, you have got to go tell them that if they want your favorite and only assistant to go to Russia, they better allow her to wear whatever the hell she wants,” Hermione ordered crossing her arms over her chest.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t do that, Hermione. They have a poi—”</p><p> </p><p>“A point?” she said, then louder to get her frustration across to him. “<em> A point</em>? It’s my body and surely I should have the ability to put whatever I’d like on it as long as it meets proper dress code, which all my clothing does as you and I both well know and as anyone else ought to know. So if my attire is appropriate then why must they send a letter in? And it’s not as though I see anyone of great importance other than you and occasionally the Minister when needed, but neither of you has ever expressed any problem with how I dress. And—”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s words had come out faster and faster until Prescott held up a hand to stop her, raising his eyebrows as if she were overreacting. Which she of course wasn’t. She was simply confused because no one had ever expressed discontentment toward her wardrobe, and even if they had, Hermione would have no idea how to go about changing her look or upgrading it. Her whole life had been her studies and her career, and the constant work gave no time for things as nugatory as clothing and makeup and accessories and <em>looks. </em> The letter really was terrible for her because it was the one thing Hermione knew herself incapable of doing, it included the one thing she had no knowledge on: fashion. </p><p> </p><p>“Hermione, I was the one who put in the complaint about your clothing choices,” Prescott said as he dropped his hand back into his lap.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Hermione sputtered, eyes unblinking and shoulders going stiff.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re my only assistant now, and therefore, you need to start dressing appropriately. That means business formal on every office day. You’ll have to start meeting with more important witches and wizards, and you’ll need to make a good impression on my and the British Ministry’s behalf. While you look lovely in your usual jeans and jumper, it simply doesn't fulfill the standard of professionalism you will need in Moscow and then in Britain if you pass the Moscow test.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione huffed and muttered, “No one told me Moscow was a test.” She paused then admitted out loud, “And I suppose you’re correct about the level of professionalism I will have to showcase as your assistant and during the ball and meeting in Moscow.”</p><p> </p><p>Prescott chuckled and ran a hand through his dark blonde locks in relief. “Thank you for understanding. And I’m only referring to it as a test because I know those are what best motivate you. So study up, love. You’ll do wonderfully. Get a tutor perhaps if you need it.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione let a pleasant and fake smile relax her pursed lips, said her farewells, and then left the room with the gears in her head spinning wildly. How ever was she going to become the epitome of business formal in only three weeks? She had no idea.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>“And then he told me to get a tutor!” Hermione grumbled loudly before taking a long sip of her butterbeer. She glanced over at Ron and Harry sitting across from her in The Three Broomsticks booth. “A tutor. As if he thinks I can’t do this by myself. Which…,” Hermione furrowed her eyebrows in thought, “...I can’t. But I—”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s actually not quite a bad idea, ‘Mione,” Harry said, avoiding eye contact as he knew to do with a pissed off Hermione Granger and instead focusing his eyes above her shoulder. When Hermione opened her mouth to ask what he meant, he explained, “The tutor thing.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?” she asked, leaning back into the seat, trying to relax her stiff posture for the seventh time that day since talking to Prescott.</p><p> </p><p>“Like, I don’t know, just someone to teach you how to dress all fashionably and stuff,” he said as he shook his head, unruly black hair falling in front of his bright green eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Like when Harry had to get that guy to teach him about etiquette so the Wizengamot would consider him for Head Auror,” Ron said, easily picking up on what Harry meant as he always was able to do. “They taught him how to act at galas and with the press and all that. And he would have gotten the job if he didn’t go and decide he wanted to travel and shag every witch or wizard in Europe.”</p><p> </p><p>“And Asia,” Harry added with a smirk. “Maybe the States if I can get to them.”</p><p> </p><p>“But I know proper etiquette. I know how to give speeches and talk to the press and act around important people,” Hermione said with a dejected sigh. “I’ve just spent so much time learning how to do it that I forgot I have to look fashionable while doing it at all.”</p><p> </p><p>“The place I hired from has personal shoppers and stylists and all that stuff,” Harry said then hesitated a moment. “There’s actually someone I think could help you. She does stuff like what you need all the time. I know where you can send her an owl if you’d like.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s face lit up with a bright wide smile, her dark brown skin seemed to glow with the realization that her career might not be at high risk anymore. </p><p> </p><p>“Harry, you’ve saved me yet again. I’d love to owl her.” She grabbed a self-inking quill from her purse and slid it over to Harry with a napkin. “Could you write down the address for me?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry scribbled down the address as she continued smiling wide. Looking up for a moment, she caught Ron looking at her with an affectionate gaze. Her smile faltered slightly, and she looked away immediately. Hermione felt bad for breaking Ron’s heart. But once she realized she could never love Ron like he wanted, like he <em>needed</em>, could never love him like she could love a woman, she broke it off. Not only did she not want to live a lie, but she wanted Ron to be happy. Hermione loved him after all, but only in the same way she loved Harry or any of her other friends. </p><p> </p><p>And Ron had taken it so well when Hermione told him she was gay. Saying he still loved her and wouldn’t want her to stay in a relationship with a man if it wasn’t what made her happy. But Ron’s support of her did not take away his more-than-platonic love for her. Of course, she felt bad that he couldn’t move on from her, because he deserved someone that loved him back.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione had tried to tell him that, but whenever she tried to bring it up, he would shake it off and try the change the topic. Hemione didn't understand why he couldn't just talk to her about it so she could try to make things right and not-awkward between them. Harry said Ron was embarrassed that everyone could tell so easily, including Hermione. He said Ron didn’t want to have feelings for her anymore but he just couldn’t seem to move on. Neither Harry nor Hermione knew what would release him from his unrequited love.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Harry,” she said, standing up and exiting the booth. “I’m gonna go and write to her. I want to start as soon as she’s available.”</p><p> </p><p>She gave both Harry and Ron a hug, Ron’s only lingering for a few seconds more than necessary. They exchanged goodbyes, set a date for their next meetup, then departed. Hermione hurried to the nearest Disapparition point, excited to owl her “tutor” and begin learning about the world of business formal fashion.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>Pansy was flipping through a new muggle fashion magazine, folding down the corners of a page with a beautiful black woman with a huge afro dressed like an angel. Pansy simultaneously wanted to shag her and dress her up in a fancy white pantsuit she had just designed. She could just imagine bringing her into Draco’s boutique. Having Draco flutter around with her with a frown of concentration and a tape measure.</p><p> </p><p>Okay, so maybe Pansy wanted to dress the model up far more than shag her, but it was her job to dress people up and it only made sense that she would love doing her job.</p><p> </p><p>A tapping on the window made Pansy jump in her pale pink desk chair. She stood up and went to the window of her office where a brown-and-white speckled boreal owl pecked at the window, a small envelope clutched in its talons.</p><p> </p><p>“Fancy,” Pansy said as she took the letter from the owl. The envelope was sealed with dark purple wax. She broke the wax and opened the envelope, finding a piece of parchment with overly neat words scrawled in a shiny grey across the page.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy began reading, and when she finished and saw the name signed at the bottom, her jaw fell open and she simply had to reread it. She fell into a fit of giggles by the time she was done reading and couldn’t catch her breath for what must have been ten minutes at least.</p><p> </p><p>“Sweet Merlin, I can’t even believe this,” she laughed to herself. “Hermione bloody Granger is coming to <em>me</em>, Pansy bloody Parkinson, for help on her wardrobe. On her clothing. On fashion. For fuck’s sake, this has <em>got </em>to be a prank. Granger would never come to me for anything.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy let her head fall back on the plushness of her chair, her pale cheeks tinted pink with amusement and disbelief. She repeated Granger’s name before leaning down to open her bottom desk drawer and get some owl treats and a piece of parchment. She gave the treats to the owl and then began writing a letter back to Granger.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Dear Hermione bloody Granger, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I must say, I never expected to get a note from you. I mean, you didn’t even send anything back after my apology letter about my actions during and before the war. Not that I minded, spared me a lot of humiliation. This shocked me so much I couldn’t breathe. Literally. I’m not lying. I felt death waiting for me there for a moment because I physically couldn’t catch my breath.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> To get to answering the question posed in your letter: yes, I would be glad to help you. I’ve helped a couple of people find their own style for a new workplace or simply for themselves and their own happiness. For </em>
  <strike>
    <em>most </em>
  </strike>
  <em>all of my clients, I hope for them to be happy with their clothing no matter what, even if it is for work or some boring mundane event. That’s my job after all. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’m gonna warn you though. I usually direct my clients to shops owned and run by fellow Slytherins who were hit hard by reparations (and by a couple fists from people who can’t let bygones be bygones). My friend Draco Malfoy is a tailor, Gregory Goyle sells jewelry with his wife, and Theo Nott owns a makeup store. I’m not stupid and I realize all of these people (and myself) are people you don’t have the best history with (understatement of the decade, I know), and I thought I should let you know before you decide to partake in any business with me. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Love, Pansy Parkinson </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> P.S. Was it Potter that recommended me? I vaguely remember accompanying him to Draco’s shop. Ha, I bet he didn’t even tell you it was me he was suggesting. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Pansy gave the letter to the owl then set back to work at flipping through her magazine and then at drawing up a design for the model she had had her eye on. She was working on a skirt when the owl came back, purple wax-sealed envelope in tow.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Parkinson, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t expect myself to be owling to you any time soon either. I’m certain you must be over-exaggerating with this whole inability to breathe claim. I’ve found that all Slytherin are rather over-dramatic. A certain interaction between a pointy blonde and a hippogriff comes to mind. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> You sound as though you care about your clients, and that’s nice, I suppose. I’m not going to say that I’m excited to see all the people you mentioned, but I try to keep what happened during the war out of my mind. I let it stay in the past where it belongs. And frankly, I’m<strike> a </strike></em><strike> <em> bit desperate </em></strike> <em> very in need of quick help, and I have no idea where else I would find the sort of help you can give. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’ll like to plan the details of our… What do you call this? Tutoring of the fashionable sense? I don’t know. But I’d like to work the details out face-to-face. So when would work best for you to meet up? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Who uses love with someone they don’t know let alone have a bad history with, Hermione Granger </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> P.S. Yes, Harry did recommend me to you without mentioning that it was you. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Pansy laughed again at the letter but this time for an entirely different reason. Granger had seemed only a tad oblivious throughout the letter which struck Pansy as a bit humorous. Granger was no good at crossing things out (there were spells for that, didn’t she know?), and Pansy had almost immediately caught the scratched over “bit desperate”. And her complete lack of knowledge seemed like it was going to be fun.</p><p> </p><p>Most of Pansy’s clients at least knew what she did for a living, which was a bit of everything. Personal shopper, hairstylist, makeup artist, clothing designer, fashion stylist, sales associate; Pansy was able to pull her load in almost any area of the fashion industry, and she had worked hard to prove herself and her abilities.</p><p> </p><p>Some part of her had thought it would be easier for her after the war. She and her family were never part of the Death Eaters, had never taken the mark. But her father had sometimes publicly supported them, and her family was just as bigoted as the rest of the pureblood supremacists out there. She had found that out when she was disowned after coming out once the war was over. What with her father’s mostly public support of Voldemort and Pansy herself trying to hand Harry bleeding Potter over to Voldemort, people were not the nicest after the war was over. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy started in muggle fashion, just in retail then moving her way up to managing and then to a bigger business where she would help people pick out the clothes that would best fit their aesthetic and style. After nearly two years working only muggle, she finally got a job in the wizarding world helping style people. It gave her the time to go to a muggle university for cosmetology. She learned the art of hair and makeup before being promoted to one of the few personal shoppers her boss employed. She earned her reputation there for three years while practicing design, hair styling, and makeup all on the side. </p><p> </p><p>And now, Pansy was renting an office space in a building full of other up-and-comers in fashion. Your designers, models, personal shoppers, photographers, makeup artists, hairstylists, the assistants for all those people, and so many others occupied the many other offices and rooms around her. Pansy fit in here. She had a place here and was one of the most established and popular business owners in the building. She was proud of herself for getting to where she was in only eight years and with the reputation she had once had.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione Granger was just the challenge for her. Pansy had dealt with many people who hated her, resented her for everything she did and didn’t do in the war. Hermione Granger had all the reason to despise her, and Pansy would have to deal with that a lot as she moved up in the industry. Might as well start with the worst of the worst, the hardest challenge, the most difficult-to-like client she might ever have.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hermione, </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> 1. Draco is far less pointy than he once was; he’s really grown into his face. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>2. I will make sure all my Slytherin friends are on their best behaviour as long as you are also on yours.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>3. Meet me at Bright Thestral Lounge in Knockturn Alley, Thursday at 8</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I use love with everyone, Pansy Parkinson</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Pansy didn’t expect a letter back, so she organized her desk, grabbed her coat, and left for home. She had to decide what she would wear to impress her hopefully new client.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>When Pansy arrived at Bright Thestral Lounge, Granger was already occupying one of the corner couches behind all the other tables and couches, mostly hidden from the view and interest of any of the other dozen or so people in the bar. </p><p> </p><p>“Hermione bloody Granger,” Pansy said with a smirk as she plopped onto the plush chair adjacent to Granger. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Granger said, looking up suddenly, her mouth a perfect circle of awe. “Parkinson. Hi. Hello. I mean, how are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just lovely,” Pansy answered, sweeping her gaze across Hermione’s body, top to bottom. She was wearing a mustard yellow jumper and dark blue jeans that hugged her big thighs. While she looked nice and put together, Hermione was exceedingly casual. Pansy had picked the Bright Thestral hoping that Hermione would show up in something more fancy or formal. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy herself had even dressed up for the occasion with fishnets under a tight black skirt with a maroon button-up tucked into it. The first few buttons were undone to showcase the little cleavage she had. She’d put on a couple of the gold chain necklaces she’d gotten from Greg a few birthdays back and black kitten heels to dress it all up.</p><p> </p><p>“You do know the Bright Thestral is a <em> lounge </em>?” Pansy asked. “Not a simple pub or tavern I assume most Gryffindors go to. This place is high class, and it usually has an unspoken dress code. You’re aware of that, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione blushed, her dark cheeks getting ever so slightly pink. She glanced down at her jumper then back up at Pansy. “I didn’t really know what to wear, and I probably wouldn’t be coming to you if I <em> did </em> know.”</p><p> </p><p>“You make a good point, right there,” Pansy said as she waved over a waiter. “Negroni for me please.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, Ms. Parkinson, and for you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just water if you don’t mind,” Hermione said with a smile towards the waiter.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy rolled her eyes. “She’ll have a cosmopolitan, Wilson. Put it on my tab too.”</p><p> </p><p>“How’d you know I liked cosmopolitans?” Hermione asked, eyes wide, when the waiter left.</p><p> </p><p>“You said it in an interview some time ago,” she said with a nonchalant wave of her hand when Hermione raised an eyebrow. “I like to do my research on possible clients. You’re no different from anyone else.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s good,” Hermione said and was quiet for a moment. “You know the waiter?”</p><p> </p><p>“Blaise owns the place. I know everyone who works here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. I haven’t been on Knockturn since, probably, the year after the war,” Hermione said. “It’s...different. Nice though. Before the war, it was...you know. And after the war, it was falling apart quite literally.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy nodded and looked down at where her fingers drummed against the armrest of her chair. She didn’t like thinking about Knockturn Alley before and especially during the war. It was so unabashedly evil. Flooded with dark magic and darker people. It reminded her of dark times and darker thoughts. But it was different now. It was <em>good </em>now.</p><p> </p><p>“A lot has changed. Some things are still the same,” Pansy told her. “Most of the shops are still Slytherin-owned, but the entire place has changed its vibe from ‘spooky Death Eater hangout’ to something still slightly spooky in some parts but less gloomy and sinister.”</p><p> </p><p>“I wonder who worked on rebuilding it all. It really does look like an entirely new place,” Hermione wondered out loud and then met Pansy’s eyes for the first time since she had walked in and taken a seat. “Do you know? I only ask because a reconstruction like this must have taken ages.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy shrugged. She could, of course, tell Hermione about the summer she had spent working on Knockturn Alley when Greg and his wife Millicent (who Pansy still disliked to this day for being such a snobby bint. All of the other Slytherins from her year had gotten over themselves, but not Millie. She was still as uptight as ever) had opened their jewelry store. They had asked for Pansy, Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Daphne to help renovate and restore their shop. While working, they all came to realize that they could easily rent out all the shops that had closed once their Death Eater-supporting owners had gone to Azkaban or fled the country. The whole alley was practically theirs for the taking. So Blaise bought the lounge, Draco the boutique, Daphne the cafe. Theo had taken the longest to work up the bravery to buy a small little shop where he could sell makeup and nail polish and face masks and all these ‘feminine’ things that he thought the world would judge him for. But eventually, nearly all of Pansy’s friends were doing something they loved, and she was so happy for all of them.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy didn’t tell this to Hermione. She didn’t want to brag or seem too prideful because Merlin knows that was what Hermione expected. And what would Pansy be if she wasn’t unpredictable? More so, what would Pansy be if she was still the same Pansy from the before the war?</p><p> </p><p>Pansy hummed noncommittally. “I’m not sure, but as for you and me and our—what did you call it?” Pansy asked with a smirk. She looked at Hermione, who looked flustered and blushed. She was nervously twirling a frizzy ringlet of hair around her finger. </p><p> </p><p>“Tutoring,” Hermione murmured under her breath, causing Pansy to smile wider with amusement. </p><p> </p><p>“Cute,” Pansy commented, and her mind carefully tried to ignore the fact that in all seriousness, Hermione bloody Granger was rather cute. Her brown skin reflected the dim bar light, and her eyes shone with hesitancy and a bit of bashfulness. Her thick dark brown curls bounced whenever she moved her head even in the slightest and Pansy couldn’t help but want to run her fingers through it. It looked like it would be so soft to the touch, but Pansy knew how absurd that line of thinking was and stayed carefully away from it.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s nice to know you still find amusement about other people’s embarrassment,” Hermione grumbled as the waiter approached their table with drinks.</p><p> </p><p>“Some things never change, Granger,” Pansy said, taking her drink from Wilson and taking a short sip from it, her lipstick leaving a matte maroon stain on the edge of the glass. She sat her drink back down with a clink and leaned forward toward Hermione, her elbows resting on her knees. “So what do you need from me?”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione gulped. “Oh, um, well, I’ve been recently promoted, and with the promotion comes a higher expectation for my wardrobe which as of now mainly consists of jeans and casual skirts and jumpers and the occasional button-up and black flats.” She took a sip of her cosmopolitan, tongue peeking out to lick the remaining moisture from her lips. Pansy’s eyes tracked the movement. “I don’t have any idea how to <em>upgrade </em>my current clothing situation. My boss says something more business formal. And I’m also going to a ball in Moscow, Russia, in about two months. I’ll need to look nice while I’m there, and perhaps wear something that they would wear there.”</p><p> </p><p>“How long will you be in Moscow?”</p><p> </p><p>“A week at least. Perhaps more if I’m needed,” Hermione said. “But I have to show some progress with my wardrobe in the next three weeks or I’ll be excluded from the trip.”</p><p> </p><p>“Three weeks is very little time to find something that you’re comfortable in, that fits your personal style, and that you love yourself in.” Pansy smirked when Hermione let out a scoff. “I’m serious, Granger. My job is to help people love themselves by using clothing, makeup, jewelry, whatever. Even when people come to me for help looking professional or formal, I still want them to love themselves, their bodies, their style, no matter what end goal they’re trying to achieve.</p><p> </p><p>“So while you might be <em>most </em>comfortable in casual attire, I want to find you formal and professional clothes you can be just as if not <em>more </em>comfortable in. There’s a world of possibilities you haven’t explored yet.”</p><p> </p><p>It was the whole reason Pansy had found interest in the fashion industry in the first place: to find self-love and confidence. They were things that seemed so distant during the war. She hated herself, everything about her body and her personality, but makeup and clothes and hair and whatever else helped her restore the confidence to be herself, inside and out. She wanted to help other people find that same confidence and love for themselves. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy <em>was </em>helping people. Not in the traditional way of Healers and Aurors, but she found peace in helping people find self-worth. It was a way to make up for the mistakes of her past. It was some form of redemption. It would never be enough, she knew, but it was something. It was just a plus that she enjoyed the work she did.</p><p> </p><p>“How commendable,” Hermione said. “That you simply want to...help people.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy’s small smile turned into a scowl. Of course Hermione wouldn’t believe that a filthy Slytherin would ever want to help a person. “I suppose you think I’d much rather be exploring the dark arts rather than fashion, huh? And I thought you might actually be able to look past some of my past.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no,” Hermoine rushed to say and shook her head, her curls bouncing with the movement. “That’s not what I meant. I just didn’t think that was why people did what you do.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy glared at her for a moment then relaxed back into her chair. “It’s why <em> I </em> do it. But I don’t speak for everyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” Hermione said with a small smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” Pansy said, clapping her hands. “Moving on. Tell me more about your expectations at work and going to Moscow. And I’ll tell you what I can do for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sounds like a plan,” Hermione agreed.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>“Parkinson seems like she’s changed a lot,” Hermione muttered out loud, stealing a glance at Harry who sat beside her at the Leaky Cauldron. She studied the fizzy foam floating on the surface of her butterbeer.</p><p> </p><p>“Mhmm,” Harry said. “All the Slytherins I know from our year are different, better.” Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Except Millicent Bulstrode. She’s just as much of a bully as she was at Hogwarts.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione laughed. “I never thought you’d be the one telling me about how Slytherins have become such good people.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry stared seriously at her. “They are good people, Hermione. All of them. You can’t—<em> we </em> can’t—judge them for stupid choices they made when they were teenagers.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione nodded in hesitant agreement. She knew people could change; Pansy was proof of that for her as she seemed so normal, not mean or cruel or anything similar. However, a part of Hermione was still stuck in the past. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to forgive the people who hurt her and her family and friends during the war. </p><p> </p><p>She hadn’t even managed to forgive Snape for how he had treated all her friends, and it had turned out he was on the good side the whole time. How was she supposed to forgive people who had been on the bad side? </p><p> </p><p>Harry did make a good point though. They were all kids during the war. None of them should have had to go through what they did; they shouldn’t have had to fight like they did. They were all just kids forced into a stupid war between adults. Everyone on every side made choices, good and bad, that they shouldn’t have been forced to make. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione wasn’t one to step down from a challenge, no matter how hard the challenge might seem. If forgiveness was the name of the game, she would gladly play it.</p><p> </p><p>“Even Malfoy?” Hermione asked with a joking grin.</p><p> </p><p>Harry looked down at his glass of firewhiskey and smiled almost affectionately at it. “Yes, even Malfoy.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, if Draco Malfoy could be forgiven and even liked by Harry Potter, Hermione could surely forgive Parkinson. She would certainly try and maybe she would even come to like her along the way.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I did be listening to Shrek~Chic by Winona Forever a lot while writing this 👉🥺👈 give it a listen maybe? also, I worked way too hard to get those emojis to actually place and they don't even look good so I know I'm committed to this story</p><p>and I'm sorry this took a hot second to post. I lost motivation for a moment, but then I went to the library and it gave off very motivated vibes/</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione had never been to this building before. It was a large square on the very outskirts of populous Wizarding London. Mostly made up of wide windows, it reflected the bright rays of the sun and it almost hurt to look at. </p><p> </p><p>304 Temperance Row was supposedly full of the promising talents of the fashion industry, and Harry had said there were artists there too, and writers, graphic designers, photographers. It was just a building full of people who wanted to do artistic things with their lives. Luna would love a place like this, full of art and ideas. Hermione however had always been more comfortable with science and facts. She expected her time with Parkinson would consistently push her out of her comfort zone. </p><p> </p><p>She was ready for that though, so she took a deep breath and the remaining steps toward the entrance doors. Walking through the gold-themed lobby with golden floors, a high golden ceiling, and shiny white walls. Stepped into the elevator and clicked the button for floor five. Walked out into a hallway with light grey wood floors and white walls holding beautiful and colorful paintings and photos of pretty people wearing prettier clothes. Each door in the hall was a different color. She wondered if every part of the building was as artistic and unique as this.</p><p> </p><p>At the very end of the hall was Parkinson’s office. The door was light pink. When she opened the door, she first noticed that most of the furniture in the room was also light pink. In fact, except for the black desk, the black pillows resting on a couch on the left side of the room, and the walls and floors matching the ones out in the hallway, everything was pink.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy Parkinson was sitting in a plush pink chair behind her desk, leaning back relaxed with a smirk. She was wearing matte red lipstick and white eyeshadow. Her trousers were emerald green and loose but still somehow looked as though they fit her perfectly. A matching blazer hung on the back of her desk chair. A black belt around her small waist. Tall black stiletto heels. And her top…her top was...</p><p> </p><p>“Is that lingerie?” Hermione asked, baffled, and she knew her eyes were probably wide with surprise.</p><p> </p><p>Parkinson laughed lightly. “Well, technically yes, but as of now, no. Just a pretty top.”</p><p> </p><p>And that it was. All of it was black lace except the bra cups and spaghetti straps. It left all the skin above her waist exposed except her small breasts, hidden just barely by the opaque bra cups.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione tried to ignore just <em>how</em> pretty Parkinson was. She was all angles, her collarbones and cheekbones sharp enough to cut. Her nose pointy and upturned. Her chin came to a rounded point. Where Parkinson was was hard edges, Hermione was curved. Parkinson’s mostly flat chest contrasted Hermione’s full one. Her narrow hips contrasting Hermione’s wide ones. The flat toned stomach was an opposite of Hermione’s soft belly.</p><p> </p><p>Parkinson was <em>so </em>pretty, and the sheer audacity of her existence made Hermione’s mouth dry and mind blank. She swallowed roughly and finally pulled her gaze from roaming Parkinson’s body. “Oh,” she said. “That’s nice.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does it make you uncomfortable?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Hermione asked, then rushed to say. “No, of course not. Just not something I would wear.”</p><p> </p><p>“Lovely. I’ll cross that off the ‘Things I Want to See Granger In’ list,” Pansy said with a short laugh.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione blushed and shook her head in hopes it would throw the red off her cheeks. “You want to see me in lingerie?”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy laughed loudly again, ending with a small snort. “You’re gorgeous, Granger, but the only reason I ever put my clients in lingerie is for fashion purposes. And only if they’re comfortable in it. Also, the list I mentioned…,” She paused and pulled open her top desk drawer, shuffling the contents around until she brought out a hot pink notebook with a silhouette of a stripper on it, perky nipples and all. She flipped open to a page in the middle. “Lingerie wasn’t technically on the list, but I <em> was </em>planning to ask you about it. I like to ask all my clients because there’s so much potential. But I have other ideas for you.”</p><p> </p><p>“An entire list?” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow at the notebook, mildly impressed. She put the lingerie conversation to the back of her mind.</p><p> </p><p>“Two lists actually,” Pansy corrected, her eyes bright and passionate. “One for things closer to or in your comfort zone and another for things out of your comfort zone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can we start on the inside the comfort zone list?”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy grinned. “Of course. My favorite on that list as of now is, like, a white low v-neck blouse—with long sleeves because I’ve noticed you wear those all the time—paired with these champagne-colored trousers with a wide pant leg. Tuck the blouse into the trousers and add a brown belt, and you’ve got a great neutral look. I actually saw a similar outfit on a model in a muggle magazine,” she said as she ducked down again to shuffle through a different drawer and pull out a magazine. “See here. She looks an awful lot like you really. Similar body type and the same exact eye shape. She’s wearing an outfit similar to the one I imagine for you just more colorful and standoffish.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione simply watched as Pansy talked. She seemed so passionate and lively, and Hermione could tell she really enjoyed what she did. Hermione couldn’t say the same. In fact, she had no idea what a wide pant leg meant and the words ‘low v-neck’ made her squirm in her seat</p><p> </p><p>“Also, I just want to mention that this is a very put together and complete outfit, and it’s the only one like that on the list. I only have a fantasy of you in it, because I just <em>know </em> it will look absolutely lovely on you. Most of the other things on the list are just pantsuit or plaid trousers or pencil skirt or button-up under a jumper or—well, you get the idea, just vague possibilities. This is really specific because I saw it in the magazine and then drew something up for you and then realized that my tailor friend Draco Malfoy could easily put all of it together.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know who Draco Malfoy is, Parkinson,” Hermione said quietly. In all honesty, she was a bit overwhelmed by Parkinson’s excitement about it all (and why did she have to keep bringing up lingerie and fantasies? Was that really necessary?). Once again, most of the things she listed off scared her. Pencil skirts were something Hermione had carefully stayed away from, and she knew she could never pull off plaid trousers or a pantsuit. Pantsuits were for people who had a powerful body to show off. Hermione was not that person. Her power came through intelligence and intense studying, not beauty.</p><p> </p><p>She picked at her nails as Pansy laughed softly. “Well, yes. I’d think so, but I usually introduce him as ‘my tailor friend Draco Malfoy’ with other clients, and we’ve already agreed that you’re no different than anyone else paying for my services.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione flashed back to the conversation they had had at the Bright Thestral. <em> I don’t want you to treat me differently just because of our history. I just want to be your average client</em>, she had said after they finished deciding charges and when they would meet (for a couple of hours every Tuesday and Thursday). <em> You’re way too cute to treat like my average client</em>, Pansy had answered with a loud laugh, running her fingers through her short black bob carelessly. <em> I’m joking, Granger. Of course, I’ll treat you like everyone else. </em></p><p> </p><p>Nearly every word out of Pansy’s mouth, almost every graceful movement of her hands animatedly gesturing as she spoke, practically every obnoxiously loud laugh made Hermione’s stomach flutter, and frankly, she didn’t like it.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione knew she got attached to people, liked people too easily, and even fell in love with people far too soon. The losses from the war taught her to love big and love a lot because you only have so much time to do so. And Hermione just found so many small things to like about people.</p><p> </p><p>She was <em>far </em>from in love with Parkinson, but she could feel the beginnings of <em>like </em>whenever Pansy let out her loud, high-pitched, and tinkling laugh (it was somehow softer yet still louder than the cackle she had at Hogwarts). And whenever she fiddled with her blunt bangs or smoothed down her shiny black hair. Even now, the passionate light in her eyes when she described the clothes made Hermione tingle with attraction. </p><p> </p><p>Hopefully, it was just that: simple, easy-to-ignore physical attraction. Hermione doubted she would ever really like Pansy Parkinson. After all, she and her gang of cruel Slytherin girls had tormented Hermione all during Hogwarts, and she tried to give Harry over to Voldemort. She had been a bigoted pureblood supremacist bully who supported the Death Eater cause, and Hermione highly doubted that was something she could ever fully forgive. Look past it for a few weeks while she got the help she needed from Parkinson? Perhaps she could do that. But anything more? Hermione didn’t think so.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, sure, of course,” Hermione agreed.</p><p> </p><p>Parkinson grinned. “Lovely. So speaking of Mr. Malfoy, would you mind going to his boutique today? It’s Tuesday, so he’ll have room for us. I’d just like to show you some future options and get you measured. We won’t try anything on today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, sounds good,” Hermione said, smiling back at Parkinson hesitantly. “Where’s his shop?”</p><p> </p><p>“Knockturn Alley just a few buildings down from Bright Thestral,” Parkinson answered, waving her hand indifferently as she started shuffling things into slightly organized positions across her desk and grabbing her handbag. “The Knight Bus should get us there in no time.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “The Knight Bus?”</p><p> </p><p>Parkinson smirked down at her as she stood from her chair. “Got my apparition license revoked after the war and never bothered to get it back. Makes me nauseous anyway.” Her smirk grew bigger, showing off perfect white teeth. “Plus, the Knight Bus is fun.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re kidding,” Hermione said. She held nothing against the Knight Bus, but it was so much easier to just Floo or Apparate, even walk, rather than try to hold your ground and not fall and run into walls and other people on the bus, only to leave with bruises and scratches all up and down your body.</p><p> </p><p>“Not even a little bit, love,” Parkinson said, beckoning Hermione to follow her out the door. She locked the door with a muggle key once they were both out in the hall then started down the long corridor, her heels clicking against the wood with each long step she took. Hermione hurried after her, barely able to catch up by the time Parkinson was at the elevator.</p><p> </p><p>They traveled down and out of the building in silence. Parkinson held out her wand on the side of the road and the bus came rolling into existence, lurching to a stop in front of them. Parkinson grabbed a galleon and some sickles from her purse and handed them to the conductor, a big buff man with light brown skin and long dreads.</p><p> </p><p>“And I swear to Merlin,” Parkinson said to him, holding him in place with a withering glare. “If I don’t get my hot cocoa again, I’ll shove these stilettos so far up your arse, you won’t be able to walk for months, Sal, do ya hear me?”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s pretty kinky, Pans, but I’m willing to try it,” the conductor, Sal, said with a shit-eating grin.</p><p> </p><p>She jabbed a finger at his chest and hardened her glare, but her lips twitched trying to hold back a smile. “I’m not joking. I want my fucking cocoa.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know, I know,” he said with an over-exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I’ll get you your cocoa. Want a candy cane with that?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m good without,” Parkinson said, easing back and letting her face relax into a pleasant smile. “Granger, what about you?”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione jumped, not expecting to be pulled into the conversation between what seemed to be two old friends. “Oh, I don’t need cocoa, especially not on this bus.”</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, don’t be dull,” she laughed. “Sal will get us lids, won’t ya, Sal?”</p><p> </p><p>He glanced skeptically at Hermione then quickly back at Parkinson, and Hermione blushed under his cold scrutiny. “Anything for you, Pans.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re too sweet,” she said teasingly, patting him lightly on the cheek then heading inside the bus. Hermione followed but didn’t miss the glower Sal flicked at her back, making her shiver</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s he?” Hermione asked once they were out of earshot.</p><p> </p><p>“Sal,” she said then added almost hesitantly, “He knows about my tendency to bring home odd sorts, and <em>he </em>says I’m too flirty which attracts the wrong type of people sometimes. I disagree. Either way, he’s pretty protective. But Sal’s only saved my life twice.” She paused and thought for a moment. “Three times actually. That I know of.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione gaped. “When have you needed your <em>life </em>saved before? <em>Three</em> times before?”</p><p> </p><p>“Story for another time,” Parkinson answered, leading Hermione to an ugly magenta loveseat. They sat and Sal came in with two styrofoam cups (with lids), and they sipped as the bus lurched into movement, making the loveseat slide forward a couple inches. For the first few minutes of driving and sipping, it was a fairly steady ride, the furniture on the bus only sliding around ever-so-slightly. But then the ride slowly got bumpier and bumpier until Hermione had to grip the armrest so she wouldn’t fall out of her seat.</p><p> </p><p>Five minutes in, the Knight Bus must have knocked into something rather large and rather bouncy because even Hermione’s white knuckle grip on the armrest didn’t stop her from being thrown into Parkinson’s warm lap. She squeaked slightly as she landed and managed to put her arms around Parkinson in the midst of her fear.</p><p> </p><p>Parkinson just laughed lightly down at her. “If you wanted to sit in my lap, Granger, you could have just asked.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione wished a hole would open underneath her and swallow her. She closed her eyes and climbed off her lap, trying desperately to tamper down the heat in her cheeks and subtly wipe away the sweat starting to form on her hairline. She avoided making eye contact for the rest of the ride to Malfoy's boutique.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The whole time Draco walked Pansy and Granger through the store, he wore a plastered on and painfully obvious fake smile (that honestly looked more like a grimace if you asked Pansy). While Granger was in the bathroom, he pulled Pansy aside and practically lectured her about how she ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>could have simply warned me before coming that you were bringing one of my exclusive not-boyfriend’s best friends over to my shop. I need to be wearing light blue. It makes me look welcoming and handsome. I need to have all my best workers on staff. Merlin, this is going terribly’.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His overly pleasant smile returned when Hermoine rejoined them, and he led her over to the measuring station, hand resting on her elbow. Pansy explored the store, fingers brushing the clothes on racks and running across the seams of clothes fitted perfectly on mannequins. She examined the design of it all, pausing to look more closely at the clothing she especially liked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wanted those clothes to be her designs one day, made and sold in Draco’s shop. They would have an empire. Pansy didn’t often wish for power anymore. She knew it corrupted people no matter how good their intentions were. But Pansy couldn’t help but pray to have her own works all around the world, to have her designs worn by hundreds of people. It wasn’t so much about power, but more so about being </span>
  <em>
    <span>known</span>
  </em>
  <span> and having a good reputation for something she loved to do and was proud of. It was the dream. It was the end goal. She had no idea if it would ever happen though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her train of wishful, wistful thinking was broken off when Draco rushed over to her, panic held only in his eyes with the rest of his face and his body still stoic and stiff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Granger is having a heart attack in my measuring room,” Draco hissed, grabbing Pansy’s wrist and dragging her quickly to the small closet-like room where Draco measured his customers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean she’s having a heart attack?” Pansy asked wildly, and she was positive she looked nowhere near as calm as Draco did. She was never as good at him at looking completely unaffected and emotional. Her feelings showed easily on her face, and with time, she stopped trying to hide them. It was better to be obnoxiously honest with your feelings than be so bad at hiding them that you hated yourself for having feelings at all. So Pansy was well aware of how panicked and confused she probably looked, her face paler than usual and her teeth biting down on her lower lip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s acting like she can’t breathe and she’s all sweaty and crying on the floor,” Draco said as he pulled her into the room where two other people and Granger were gathered in. Granger was on her knees, her head in her hands and shoulders shaking with quiet breathless sobs. The man and woman also inside were looking down at her, helpless. The room was crowded with just two people inside, and now with five people, it felt nearly impossible to breathe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Merlin’s sake, Draco, she’s having a panic attack, can’t you fucking see?” she muttered then louder to him and the two people, “Get out, all of you. Really, Draco, what were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span>? And who are these people?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Obviously, I wasn’t thinking, and they’re new employees that need to be trained,” he said under his breath as he walked out behind the man and woman, keeping the door wide open after him, letting a breeze of cool air into the stuffy room warmed with body heat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy walked to the center podium where Granger was still shaking just as violently, her desperate gasps for air all the more obvious in the otherwise silent room. She crouched down next to her, aching to reach out and comfort her but knowing she probably shouldn’t, just in case it would make anything worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Granger,” Pansy whispered, staying a safe distance away but still close enough that she could be easily heard. “Gra—Hermione, you’re safe. You’re okay. What do you need? What can I do?” She didn’t answer. “Hermione, love, I’m going to put an arm around you, and I’m going to hold you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy leaned forward, wrapping one arm around Granger’s side and using her open hand to push her thick hair out of her face, some of it still sticking to her sweaty cheeks and forehead. Granger didn’t flinch away or start to lose even more breath, so Pansy took that as permission to move closer to her, take one of Granger’s hands in her own, and press their bodies together. In just a few moments, Granger dropped her head onto Pansy’s shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of Pansy’s neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy felt her neck and mostly bare shoulder get wet with Granger’s tears, felt her body shaking against her chest. She just held Granger and pet her hair, doing her best to be there for this person who she barely knew, and she could only expect Granger was feeling the same apprehension about being held by her childhood bully. Pansy only hoped she wouldn’t be hated afterward for what she thought would help.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Slowly but surely, Granger started to relax, the panic easing from her body. Her shaking stopped, and soon enough, she was able to pull away. Their hands still held though, fingers entwined, palms warm and sweaty against each other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Granger whispered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy squeezed her hand. “No, it happens to the best of us. You shouldn’t be sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhmm,” she said, a wry smile on her full lips. “I suppose you break down in public establishments all the time then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only twice,” Pansy told her, smirking. “Once at the Bright Thestral and once at a muggle club. Mind you, my breakdowns usually end with fistfights.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The panic attack she’d had at the Bright Thestral was probably her worst. Some old, greasy-haired man wouldn’t stop hitting on her and had taken it a step too far when he’d followed her out to the alley behind the bar. She was smoking a cigarette against the brick wall when he had started trailing his dirty hands all over her body, refusing to stop. For a moment, Pansy had been stock still, tears barely stinging the back of her eyes. When a hand slid down her stomach, something broke inside of her. She screamed and shouted and hit and kicked and scratched, the whole time tears streaming helplessly down her cheeks. Most of it was a blur until Blaise came out, saw what was happening, and finally used his muscles for something good, hauling the man up and against the wall, arm at his throat. Pansy had sunk to the ground, rocking back and forth, unable to breathe or think anything other than a continuous stream of ‘fuck fuck fuck’. She was probably stuck on the ground for an hour after that. She wouldn’t say it was the worst fear of her life; she’d been through a war after all. But it was still so terrible and terrifying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did he get arrested?” Granger asked softly after Pansy told her the story.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy snorted. “We didn’t call the Aurors. They wouldn’t have done anything for me or Blaise back then. Probably not even now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Granger said again. “You don’t deserve that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy waved it off. She didn’t have time to feel sorry for herself and definitely not the time to wonder what she did or did not deserve. “Just paying our dues, Granger.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Granger furrowed her eyebrows for a moment and slowly slipped her hand from Pansy’s. She stood up and dusted off her jeans, held out a hand to help Pansy up from the ground. They walked silently out of the closet/measuring room and then out of the boutique, not deigning to say goodbye to Draco (honestly, how stupid was he to shove four people into that room? Surely, he knew that was basically a claustrophobe’s worst nightmare. Pansy had overestimated her dumbarse friend’s intelligence once again).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cafe across the street?” Pansy asked Hermione. She nodded, and they crossed the street, shoulders brushing. Each lingering touch of Pansy’s shoulder against Hermione’s thin green jumper made her skin tingle, goosebumps appearing all up and down her right arm. They sat down, ordered tea and scones, and sipped quietly until Granger spoke up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“During seventh year,” Granger began, looking past Pansy over the rim of her mug. “When we were in the Forest of Dean, we just had this one small tent. And it was freezing. It was so damn cold, and no matter how much of that old gross tea we drank, it never really warmed us up. Whenever I wasn’t on watch, I would curl up in this corner between the bed and the wall. At the time, being surrounded and stuffed in like that—it felt safe. Now, it just makes me feel stuck and suffocated and </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I never want to go back. That was a bad time, and things that remind of it are bad times too. I never, ever want to go back to that time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy didn’t know exactly what to say in response to all that. She wasn’t always good at being there for people without also being an arsehole. A nice, sympathetic, and mildly affectionate arsehole, but an arsehole nonetheless. She tried not to be, but tough and teasing love was what she was good at. She did however realize that it didn’t work for everyone, and not everyone understood when a former-pureblood Slytherin bint was joking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead of saying something that might be wrong, she just looked Granger in the eyes, tried to look sincere, and nudged Granger’s foot with her own under the table. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed again and nudged Pansy back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy wasn’t one who believed in “signs”, but for whatever reason, this </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> like one. She was sure there was some too-good-to-be-true, happy-go-lucky double meaning behind that one gesture. Probably something about how they were both giving something to each other, that was more than just a nudge with the foot. They were giving each other a bit of their personality, a bit of their </span>
  <em>
    <span>realness</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okay, so there was definitely a bit of a double meaning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two of them finished their teas and scones, making small talk and giving a rest to the bigger stuff. Pansy insisted she paid for both of their orders, and Hermione resisted at first but eventually gave in. Her businessman father did at least teach her one good thing: the art of persuasion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You called me Hermione,” Granger said as they walked outside. The sky was now dark, lit up only with the few stars that had started appearing in the early nighttime hours and the lampposts lining the streets. Knockturn Alley looked more like it had during the war when it was dark and dim like this, but still better and full of hope and potential.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Extenuating circumstances,” Pansy explained shortly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione took a deep breath. “You—you can call me Hermione if you want. I’m okay with that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy stopped underneath a lamppost and looked at her. They were almost the same height, Pansy only being a couple inches taller. Her lips were full and slightly parted, her skin dark and shiny, her hair becoming puffier in the humid air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy could kiss her, wanted to kiss her, and nothing really was stopping her from kissing her. So she did just that. Placed a gentle hand on her chin, tilted her head up, whispered “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hermione</span>
  </em>
  <span>” breathlessly against her lips, then leaned in. Their lips met and Hermione let out a surprised ‘oh’, but then relaxed against Pansy, their mouths moving against each other for only a few sacred moments of bliss before it was over and Hermione was pulling away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m, uh, I—it’s getting late, and I should, uh, get home. See you on Thursday,” Hermione stuttered out in a rush then turned away and disappeared with the loud crack of Disapparition, leaving Pansy absolutely no time to reach out or say goodbye or anything, leaving her alone in the dimly lit street.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>don't be shy, leave a kudos and comment :)))</p><p>Also, I took a lot of outfit inspiration from upthehill art and their drawings of pansy and Hermione. you should go check out their Tumblr and Instagram. I absolutely adore their art!! I'm not exactly a fashion person myself so I've been looking at a lot of fanart and fashion blogs to get ideas</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I listened to "We're Not Just Friends" by Parks, Square, and Alley a shitton while writing this, I adore that song, would die for that song. Erm, hope ya enjoy this chapter. I tried my very best :)))</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione Apparated directly to her bedroom and immediately fell onto her bed. The comforter was soft underneath her, and it quickly calmed her racing heart. She didn’t know if she was nauseous because of the Apparition or because of the kiss. She knew which one it probably was (Apparition hadn’t caused her symptoms in years), but that didn’t mean she would admit it to herself. </p><p> </p><p>Kisses never really made Hermione <em>feel </em>things. The whole night was full of feelings though, and it was only expected that the kiss would be the same. The type of feeling that made her heart skip beats and her stomach flutter and her lungs stop working in the best of ways. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione buried her face into a pillow when she let herself think about it. How she had leaned into it. How Pansy (<em>Pansy? Parkinson? When did she become Pansy?? </em> ) had whispered her name against Hermione’s mouth. How her tongue barely peeked out to wet her lips. How her fingers had gently tilted Hermione’s chin up to let their lips meet. How Hermione had <em>almost </em>reached out to grab at Pansy’s waist and pull her closer, but then remembered who Pansy was—or more specifically, who she had been. </p><p> </p><p>As much as Hermione wanted the past to be behind her, it just <em>wasn’t</em>. It still itched at her, day and night, and it showed itself as panic attacks and nightmares and pulling away from a mindblowing and overwhelmingly good kiss. The past was constantly lingering under Hermione’s skin, so easy to ignore when it wasn’t being poked and scratched at.</p><p> </p><p>Sighing loudly, Hermione stood up from her bed, walked into the living room/kitchen/entryway of her tiny flat. She grabbed a handful of green powder from a bowl and tossed it into the fireplace. Green flames rose up inside it, and she stepped into them, clearly stating the address before walking out into 12 Grimmauld Place. </p><p> </p><p>“Harry?” she called out. </p><p> </p><p>Harry appeared after a few seconds at the bottom of the stairs, hands rushing to clumsily fasten the last few buttons of his shirt. He flashed her an awkward smile as he finished and walked over to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry,” Hermione said, eyes wide. “I didn’t realize that—I mean, who is… It’s just. It’s Tuesday? And you’re going to the dueling range in the morning? And you'd be tired?”</p><p> </p><p>Harry chuckled. “Some people are worth feeling tired in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right.” Hermione paused then quickly built up the courage to ask, “How did you forgive him, Harry?”</p><p> </p><p>He frowned and glanced away for a moment. “Forgive who?”</p><p> </p><p>“Malfoy,” Hermione told him, nodding at the stairs. “How did you forgive him? How can you just...ignore everything that happened between you two?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not that easy, ‘Mione,” Harry sighed and leaned against the arm of the couch. “We don’t just <em>ignore </em>it. We actually talk to each other. About the things that happened and the things that didn’t happen. And it hurts and it sucks to talk about it sometimes, but we do. We talk because things will never work out if we don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>“You really care about him, don’t you?” Hermione said, curious. She had known they were having sex for a while now. They were awfully obvious about it after all. Always stealing glances when they saw each other in public. Harry’s cheeks would heat, tinting his olive skin with pink whenever Malfoy was brought up in conversation. He was always canceling plans for no good reason, and he had been in London for two whole months now when before he would only stay for a couple of weeks at most before heading out to his next travel destination. </p><p> </p><p>Harry blushed and looked down at his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione grinned at him. “I’m happy for you, Harry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Harry asked hesitantly. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, of course,” Hermione told him, and she meant it. Ever since she had found out about Draco and Harry, she’d noticed how much happier and balanced Harry had seemed. He had always been so lost before, but here he was. Steady and assured and <em>happy</em>. It was all Hermione could ever wish for Harry to have.</p><p> </p><p>“Pansy is a good person, ‘Mione,”  Harry told her. “She works hard and cares a lot about her friends. Give her a chance. I’m sure you can manage to work with her for just a few weeks.”</p><p> </p><p>She sighed and went to give him a hug. “I know. Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he said, smiling at her. “Now get out of here,” he joked. “I have someone waiting for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“I love you, Harry,” she said as she prepared to go through the floo, throwing the powder down in front of her and stepping into the flames. “I’ll see you this weekend.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione disappeared, catching the positively delighted grin rising onto Harry’s face. Things were finally working out for him, and Hermione was glad. </p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>On Thursday when Hermione showed up again at 304 Temperance Row, Pansy was already right in front of her practically, talking and laughing with one of the secretaries in the building lobby. During one particularly loud laugh that Hermione could hear all the way across the spacious lobby, Pansy threw her head back and must have caught glimpse of Hermione because she stilled and made eye contact with her for a few moments before turning back to the secretary and hopefully finishing up her conversation.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione had plans after all, and if Pansy wasn’t quick, Hermione might lose her Gryffindor courage to actually go through with those plans. Plans that included kissing Pansy again and not much planning for anything after that. After all, it was so much easier to think about how nice it had been to actually kiss Pansy then it was to think about what the act <em>meant</em>.</p><p> </p><p>In fact, most of her days since Tuesday had been spent thinking about Pansy and her lips and her face and how her breasts had looked in that goddamn lingerie and how she always looked so obnoxiously put together and pretty. Needless to say, those thoughts left very little time for other thoughts such as “I probably shouldn’t be thinking these things” or “Kissing might or definitely will complicate some things” or “It could possibly be a good idea to forget that it ever happened” or “I think I should apologize”.</p><p> </p><p>The last two of which were things that Pansy had said once she left the secretary to come over to Hermione. </p><p> </p><p>“So yeah, I’m sorry,” Pansy said with a soft smile. “It won’t happen again.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right, yes, of course,” Hermione rushed to say. “Probably for the best it’s like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“My thoughts exactly, love,” Pansy said, clapping her hands in that way Hermione was starting to realize she always did in order to signal the end of a conversation. “Well, I need a cigarette and then we’ll be on our way to Draco’s shop. I can measure you this time, outside the measuring room of course.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, also you can apparate us if you want. Sal isn’t very fond of you, so he probably wouldn’t give you cocoa this time around,” Pansy added as she started walking towards the glass exit doors. She probably expected Hermione to follow her out, but Hermione was still frozen with the surprise of Pansy foiling her plans to kiss her, perhaps with a bit more tongue this time. And now that was impossible because they had both basically agreed to not even <em>think </em>about it. Hermione knew she could never do that. It was a truly amazing kiss, and Hermione was starting to think that Pansy might be a truly amazing person if Hermione was willing to get to know her. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey, you coming?” Pansy said turning around a few steps ahead of Hermione with a hand on her hip. “Or are you planning to just stand in the lobby all night?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m coming,” Hermione answered, smiling back at her weakly and trying to mask the disappointment on her face as she got caught up beside her. Once outside, Hermione linked her arm with Pansy’s, hand lightly gripping her wrist and the other one around her wand. She sharply turned around, disappearing with Pansy suddenly clutching down hard into the softness of her forearm. Her nails were digging in so much that Hermione thought for a moment they might draw blood. </p><p> </p><p>When the world stopped spinning around them and transported them to the front of Malfoy’s shop, Hermione turned to look curiously at Pansy, who had her eyes squeezed shut and was still clutching at Hermione’s arm.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you okay?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna die,” Pansy whispered hoarsely, her eyes blinking open to gaze dramatically into Hermione’s. “I am <em> literally </em>going to die.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione, love, I take the <em> Knight Bus </em>instead of apparating,” Pansy said seriously, raising one delicate eyebrow. “It’s pretty damn bad. And I <em> am </em>dying, I’m going to throw up my entire stomach. Do you want to see the eggs I had for breakfast? No, I didn’t think so. I’m going to ruin my favorite sexy nun-slash-school girl dress with my egg vomit.”</p><p> </p><p>As Pansy pouted, Hermione couldn’t help but think that Pansy was attractive even as she was rambling on about her throwup. And Hermione agreed about what a shame it would be if her collared black over white dress was thrown up on. Though she looked less like a sexy nun school girl and more like an adult Wednesday Addams with blunt bangs and a short bob. Hermione told Pansy this, but she just looked at her confused.</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s Wednesday Addams?” she asked.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione laughed. “From <em> The Addams Family</em>? You know, the movie with the gothic family with the long lost brother and—”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s a <em> movie </em>?” Pansy asked, interrupting Hermione and staring at her like she was a loon.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione just shook her head. “Purebloods,” she muttered under her breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Purebloods placed the stones of the pavement you’re standing on right now,” Pansy argued, faking offense.</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” Hermione said, taken aback. “I thought you didn’t know who did it?”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy shrugged. “Wouldn’t want to brag about all the good deeds I’ve been doing these past few years.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione laughed and then immediately regretted it. Who was she to assume that Pansy had done nothing to help the world recover after the war? After all, she and Ron and Harry had gone to Canada almost directly after the war, just to take a break. While she had never imagined that Pansy was out restoring streets and buildings and such during their vacation, Hermione did know after some research that most of Knockturn Alley was owned by Slytherins that had been in the same year as her and Pansy. If not in the same year, they were at least affiliated with Malfoy and Pansy’s group, like Astoria Greengrass who owned a pharmacy that sold a mix of wizarding potions and muggle medicines or one of Theodore Nott’s stepbrother’s who had bought a pet shop that sold mostly rare animals. So in hindsight, it made sense that Pansy would have helped to rebuild Knockturn Alley and the buildings therein.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy frowned then clapped her hands together in that way she had, thus ending the conversation. Hermione couldn’t tell if that habit of hers was endearing or annoying or most likely both. “Let’s go inside then. I want to get some clothes on you today, so we can show your boss some progress. We’re on a short schedule after all,” Pansy said and led the way inside Malfoy’s boutique. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure that you could do it in a day if you had to,” Hermione said, and she believed it. Dressing and design seemed to be Pansy’s whole life after all, and she had a huge reputation for being wonderful at all things having to do with it.</p><p> </p><p>“I am rather talented,” Pansy smirked, then added with a wink, “At a lot of things, actually.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione just smiled nervously and didn’t risk blushing more by replying. She avoided eye contact with Pansy for the rest of their time together.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>“She <em> laughed </em> when I said I’ve done good deeds,” Pansy scoffed to Draco over the glass of wine he had hesitantly given her once she had arrived back at their flat for dinner. She was always the first to arrive and the first to get pissed at these monthly dinners. Even when she hosted, she was the first to get drunk which was terribly informal of her, but what were friends for if not to get sloshed with? “As if it’s so hard to believe that I’ve done good things in my life.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s almost like you want her to think you do good things, like you want her to <em> like </em> you,” Draco said proudly, probably thinking he had something new and wonderful figured out. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy snorted. “Pfft, of course not. I don’t need anyone’s respect, let alone Hermione Granger’s. I’m just upset that she has the gall to think I have no decency when I’m so obviously a good person.”</p><p> </p><p>That was true, not just a sarcastic remark. Maybe it wasn’t as obvious as Pansy liked to say, but she was a <em> good </em> person. She had paid her dues, and she was reformed by now. Most people knew that, realized that she had done a lot of work and good deeds to get to where she was. Most people were smart enough and willing enough to see that she and most of her friends and acquaintances had changed into better people. They would never be perfect and they would always have their past, but right here and right now, they were <em> good </em>. Pansy was good. </p><p> </p><p>“Granger’s stubborn,” Draco told her with a sigh as he stirred the white sauce he was making. “Harry’s talked about her, and as far as I’ve heard, nothing can change her mind unless she wants it changed. So maybe it’s best that you keep denying that you want her to like you because <em> she </em> seemingly doesn’t want to like you either.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy took a long sip of wine, emptying her glass. She poured another serving of Draco’s overly fancy red wine into her glass and took another sip. Pansy hadn’t really thought about the situation in the same way as Draco. She had assumed she just gave off “bad person” vibes. Draco was a smart nut though, and what he said made sense, as unfortunately it usually did no matter how harsh the sense was.</p><p> </p><p>“You can ask Harry about it since he’s coming tonight,” Draco said quietly, his entire focus seemingly on the sauce task at hand.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy’s gaze shot toward him, jerking her head after it, and she narrowed her eyes at the back of Draco’s blonde head. “Does everyone else know? You know Daphne has a thing against Gryffindors.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, they don’t know, and it’s not like I’m just throwing him to the wolves. I—”</p><p> </p><p>“Snakes,” Pansy corrected cheekily. “Because, you know, we’re Slytherins. And the house animal is sn—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Pansy, I know. Very funny,” Draco said, not laughing at all (which he should have been doing because Pansy was, in fact, extremely hilarious. Draco just didn’t have a good sense of humor). “<em> But </em>, as I was saying, I’m not just putting one lion in a pit of seven snakes. I told him he could bring a friend. Presumably another Gryffindor. Salazar, though I hope it isn’t Weasley. I still can’t stand him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Draco!” Pansy exclaimed, eyes wide. “He’ll probably bring Hermione!”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re on a first-name basis?” Draco said with an inquisitive hum. “Hmm, Harry and I fucked for the first time the day he finally called me Draco.”</p><p> </p><p>“Piss off, Draco,” Pansy sneered as their fireplace flared to life and Blaise walked in through green flames. </p><p> </p><p>“Blaise Zabini, I told you not to bring any fucking protein shakes!” Draco shouted as Blaise slinked over to the kitchen island to lean oh-so-sexily against it, one homemade spinach protein drink in hand. “This is a formal dinner party, not a gym cafeteria for Merlin’s sake.”</p><p> </p><p>“It takes effort to look this good,” Blaise smirked. “Whatever carb-filled meal you’ve decided to make won’t work for me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does it take <em> effort </em> to be a giant arsehole?” Pansy said sarcastically then turned in her barstool to look at Blaise. “Oh, and wait till you hear about this other arsehole who invited Harry bleeding Potter to dinner. We’re gonna get drunk with Harry Potter!”</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne’s going to love that,” Blaise laughed.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy nodded emphatically and poured herself another glass of wine. “Exactly what I said.”</p><p> </p><p>“You could at least wait till dinner to drink a third glass.”  Draco murmured as someone Apparated into the flat with a crack.</p><p> </p><p>“Daphne!” Blaise said and went to hug her. “You won’t believe who’s coming to dinner tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Harry Potter and Hermione Granger?” Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow and flipping her dirty blonde hair dramatically over her shoulder. “I was at Flourish and Blotts and unfortunately ran into them. I didn’t <em> mean </em>to eavesdrop—” Pansy snorted and both Blaise and Draco rolled their eyes. Some things would never change; one of those things was how much of a gossip Daphne Greengrass was and had always been. Daphne glowered at all of them. “—but I did anyway, and I heard Granger telling Potter off about being forced to come here and be near Pansy. Harry seems to be absolutely smitten though, and I hate him for it. Oh! And Greg and Millie aren’t going to make it tonight. Being held back at Gringotts. You know how it is there pre-Christmas.”</p><p> </p><p>They all fell into easy chit-chat, talking about how pointless Christmas was especially considering they all barely saw their families and the holidays were more painful than pleasurable, doting on the sexiest parts of a new Quidditch recruit to the Montrose Magpies, and playfully insulting and teasing one another as was the Slytherin way.</p><p> </p><p>Theo walked in a while later, a look of confusion on his perfectly bronzed and highlighted face. When Draco asked what was wrong with his face, he told him, “Your boyfriend and Granger are outside the building looking all sick and panicked.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not my boyfriend,” Draco corrected, looking down at his feet to hide his blush. “And someone tell them to come in already. Dinner’s nearly ready to be served. Blaise, set the table. Pansy, get the guests. Daphne, pour wine for everyone. Theo, make yourself at home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do I look like a maid,” Blaise grumbled as he went to the cabinet to get plates. </p><p> </p><p>“I pour coffee all day and then I go to my friend’s to relax and have fun and they make me pour wine,” Daphne muttered under her breath. “My life is a state of hellish consistency.”</p><p> </p><p>“Glad to know I’m still Draco’s favorite,” Theo bragged mostly to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy just sighed and frowned at Draco, who probably knew exactly what he was doing by making Pansy confront Granger first thing in the night. She headed out the front door and down the stairs to the first-floor lobby. She saw Harry and Hermione tersely snapping at each other through the front windows. She knocked on the window, not wanting to walk out into the cold night, and they both jumped and looked over at her, surprised. Pansy gestured for them to come inside. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry,” Pansy said as the door closed behind them with a cool breeze of air. “There will be alcohol.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank Merlin,” Hermione breathed, looking rather nice in the black floral overall dress with a white sweater underneath. Very party casual which wasn’t what Draco asked for but it was also never what he got (because no one was going to dress up in formal wizarding wear on their Friday night with friends). Also, Pansy had helped Hermione pick out the outfit too, and for whatever reason, it filled her with pride to see her client, to see Hermione, wearing an outfit they had worked together on. She wondered if she wore one of the business outfits to work.</p><p> </p><p>“Is Draco upset that we’re a little late?” Harry asked.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy laughed. “Draco is in a constant state of upset and grumpy and pissed off, but at the moment, he’s not upset about anything <em> specific </em>. He will be though if we’re late for dinner. Which we almost are, so hurry up.”</p><p> </p><p>She finished her sentence with a clap of her hands and was just barely able to see the roll of Hermione’s eyes when she turned to walk back to her and Draco’s flat. When they got back to the flat, Harry rushed in but Hermione held Pansy back for a moment, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back out the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, one of the muggle theaters is showing <em> The Addams Family </em> next week,” Hermione told her, a wide smile on her mouth and hand still wrapped around her wrist, sending goosebumps up her arm. “And since you haven’t seen it, I thought it would be nice to introduce to you some culture.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy laughed. “<em> I’m </em>the uncultured one?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, of course you are. You don’t even know what a movie is,” Hermione said, laughing back. “So would you like to go?”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy hesitating, frowning down at where Hermione was touching Pansy. She thought back to what Draco said, and Pansy wanted to go ask him if she should go to the theater with someone who didn’t want to like her. She wondered if Hermione resented herself for asking Pansy on what could easily be seen as a date. Pansy wondered if Hermione cringed at herself for inviting a no-good Pureblood bully to the theater. However, amidst these disconsolate wonders, Pansy also wondered if she and Hermione would hold hands if she did agree to go to the theater, if they would kiss again.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe,” Pansy answered after a moment because though she was smart enough not to immediately agree, she was also dumb enough to still have the option to eventually, just maybe, say yes in the future. “I’ll have to check my schedule.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione’s smile tilted downward, almost turning down into a frown, before she recovered and plastered it back on. “Oh, okay. That’s fine. Owl me if you can.”</p><p> </p><p>They walked in together, closing the door behind them. The scene inside was nearly exactly what Pansy had been expecting. Daphne glaring at Harry, and Harry sitting and squirming awkwardly in his seat as Draco doted on him, Theo and Blaise duly ignoring everyone else as they drank out of whiskey tumblers and chatted about the economy or some other boring subject, and Pansy and Hermione somewhat uncomfortably talking. </p><p> </p><p>“Ready for a fun night?” Pansy said with a playful wink at Hermione as she led the way toward the kitchen table where everyone was sitting. She grabbed the wine bottle she had been drinking from earlier and brought it with her to her seat. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you really need a whole bottle of wine?” Hermione whispered, taking the seat across from Pansy and next to Harry. Draco and Theo sat on the other side of Harry. Daphne sat to Pansy’s left and Blaise on Daphne’s left. </p><p> </p><p>“Two bottles actually,” Pansy corrected. ”It’s a special occasion. Like a meeting between enemies. It’s best to have a buzz during these things.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione frowned and picked up her wine glass to take a sip. “Perhaps.”</p><p> </p><p>The group fell into conversation. Harry was doing fairly well at putting himself into the conversation, but he had some practice with Blaise and Pansy before. Hermione however was new to this, and she looked uncomfortable as she picked at her food and sipped slowly at her wine. Pansy did her best to pull Hermione into the conversations about new makeup lines with Daphne and Theo, tried to ask Hermione what team she thought would make it to the Quidditch cup this season when Blaise and Harry began discussing it, but Hermione just didn’t have much opinion on those matters. </p><p> </p><p>When they all moved from the kitchen to lounge around the living room, Draco asked Hermione about her work. Apparently, she was the assistant to the International Confederation of Wizard’s British Delegate, just recently promoted. Draco asked and asked about what her boss was like, what the other international delegates were like, and what she did to help resolve conflicts between wizarding countries. Pansy found herself distracted from her own conversations because she was too busy focusing on the bright eyes of Hermione as she talked about her work and international wizarding conflicts with Draco. It was nice seeing her friends get along.</p><p> </p><p><em> Friends </em> , Pansy thought to herself. She wasn’t sure when exactly she had decided Hermione was her friend. After all, until today, she had no idea specifically what Hermione’s job even was. They knew hardly anything about each other. But Merlin, did Pansy want to learn things about Hermione. Pansy wanted to <em> know </em> Hermione, through and through. She wanted to know Hermione like she knew Draco or Blaise or Daphne or any of her friends, and unfortunately, she also wanted to know Hermione like she knew girls she met at bars to bring home for a night so she could learn their bodies all up and down. </p><p> </p><p>“Pansy?” Daphne asked. “Did you hear me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, what?” Pansy said, snapping out of her thoughts. “Sorry, what were you saying?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just asking if you were going to see your parents for Christmas this year. It’s almost December, so I thought to ask.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy crossed her arms defensively. She hated conversations about her parents. She hated her parents in the way that she still loved them and wanted them to love her but hated that they never would, because they valued things like tradition and reproduction and heterosexuality more than they valued their own daughter. </p><p> </p><p>“No, maybe next year,” Pansy said shortly.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne huffed. “That’s what you’ve said the last nine years.”</p><p> </p><p>“And that’s what I’ll say for the <em> next </em> nine years,” Pansy said with a sardonic smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, the Greengrasses will be having Christmas dinner with the Parkinsons this year again,” Daphne told her. </p><p> </p><p>“Tell me if they still hate the gays,” Pansy joked, only somewhat serious because she knew their opinion would never change.</p><p> </p><p>“They don’t hate <em> all </em> gays, Pansy. They just hate gay <em> Parkinsons </em>,” Daphne explained. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy hummed lightly. “Maybe. But it makes me feel better to think they hate all gays, not just me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who hates gays?” Hermione asked, taking a seat beside Pansy on the loveseat. Their thighs rested against each other and their shoulders skimmed just barely. </p><p> </p><p>“Society,” Pansy answered as Daphne said, “None of your business, Granger.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco snorted from across the room where he was sitting half on top of Harry in one of the armchairs. “It’s her parents who hate gays. They disowned her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously?” Hermione asked. “That’s a bit dramatic.”</p><p> </p><p>“As is the Slytherin way,” Blaise joked from the ground where he was laying back in front of the couch, hands under his head.</p><p> </p><p>“It is not!” Daphne, Pansy, Draco, and Theo all said at once, each with an (overly dramatic) offended look on their face.</p><p> </p><p>Blaise, Harry, and Hermione all laughed.</p><p> </p><p>Theo reached his leg out and kicked Blaise lightly in the head. “How dare you laugh with the enemies?”</p><p> </p><p>Daphne sniffed. “It’s just like you, Blaise, to sympathize with <em> Gryffindors </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Gryffindors aren’t that bad, Greengrass,” Harry argued. “We’re brave and chivalrous and determined and—”</p><p> </p><p>“Determined to be a pain in my ass,” Daphne retorted. “Gryffindors are annoying, stuck up, and pretentious, which—” Daphne held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth to speak. “—Slytherins are often said to be and which maybe we are. But at least we can <em>admit </em>that. Gryffindors however wouldn’t be able to think they’re anything but humble and modest.”</p><p> </p><p>“We <em> are </em> humble!” Harry exclaimed. “We’re <em>so </em>humble! We never brag or—”</p><p> </p><p>“Harry,” Draco said dryly. “You are, as of now, bragging about being humble. Which isn’t very humble.”</p><p> </p><p>They all laughed and Harry just muttered “shut up” under his breath and pulled Draco further into his lap. The group continued on for what must have been another hour, drinking and discussing the merits of each Hogwarts house. The Slytherins decided the most annoying and stuck up house was Gryffindor, while Harry and Hermione strongly disagreed but still weren’t able to prove any other house as <em>more </em>annoying and prideful. They all agreed that Slytherin had the hottest members (“Probably because the centuries of arranged marriages,” Pansy had said. “Do you really think Purebloods would let their children marry ugly?” to which Blaise had replied, “Well, your father’s parents let <em> him </em> marry ugly.” Pansy had put a hand to her heart and frowned melodramatically, saying, “Are you insulting my parents?... Do it again they deserve it.”) Hufflepuffs were decided to be the most boring but nice and lovely nonetheless. They struggled to find what was most special about the Ravenclaws until Blaise and Draco both said, almost at the same time and with both of their words slurred with drunk, “Freaky as hell in the bedroom.”</p><p> </p><p>That comment turned the conversation to kinks and soon enough, they were all giggling like school children but enhanced with copious amounts of alcohol. After kinks, they moved to more mundane subjects like work and business and family, things they found easier to joke and laugh about with liquid relaxants in their system. If alcohol is good for anything, Pansy thought it was definitely good for finally being able to not-stress about things that all of them were so stressed out by. Both the Slytherins and Gryffindors were highly committed to their work, except for Harry who was living the rich lay-about dream (but he was very committed to his doing of nothing).</p><p> </p><p>After a couple of hours and far more than a couple of drinks, Blaise fell asleep on the floor and Draco put a record on. The group laid about, relaxing into the couch, loveseat, and chair and talking only every once in a while about nothing important. Every ten minutes or so, Harry would press kisses onto Draco’s neck, and Draco would snuggle closer into Harry’s arms. Daphne had her feet up on Theo’s lap, and they talked quietly about some muggle form of entertainment Pansy knew nothing about. Hermione was still sitting by Pansy though she had switched her wine out for beer and had somehow gotten even closer to Pansy. Now not only were there thighs touching, but their arms were pressed together, only their clothes separating their skin from each other. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione yawned and stretched her arms above her before pulling her legs up onto the cushion and putting her head in Pansy’s lap. For a moment, Pansy didn’t know what to do with her hands or her legs or her thoughts that were racing in that slow drunk way, but then she brought her hand up to run her fingers through Hermione’s bushy curls. </p><p> </p><p>Twisting to look up at Pansy, Hermione said, “You’re very pretty.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy laughed softly down at her and twisted one of her curls around her finger. “And you’re very drunk.”</p><p> </p><p>“What can I say?” Hermione chuckled with a weak shrug. “I’m a lightweight.”</p><p> </p><p>“I hadn’t noticed,” Pansy said sarcastically. but in all honesty, she had actually noticed when they moved over to the living room from the kitchen, and Pansy had seen Hermione close her eyes for a long second after stumbling up from her chair.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione frowned and was silent for a few seconds. Then she grabbed Pansy’s hand from where it was petting her hair and intertwined their fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you going to the movies with me?” Hermione asked, squirming in Pansy’s lap until she was comfortable.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy just hummed noncommittally, not wanting to give an answer when she was drunk. Eventually, Hermione fell asleep, breaths getting deep and slow and her whole body relaxing. </p><p> </p><p>Daphne raised a carefully trimmed eyebrow at Pansy and mouthed, “<em>Seriously </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Piss off,” Pansy mouthed back and flipped her off playfully.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne rolled her eyes and muttered, “Good luck with that then.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy sighed and looked down at Hermione, sleeping all cute and peaceful in her lap. “I think my luck might fail me this time.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yikes, I really hope ya liked it. Leave a kudos or comment or whatever you might. Thanks a million, loves &lt;3</p><p>Also, I have all these fanfic ideas written down and ideas for them are constantly rattling around and I occasionally become very confused as to which ideas belong to which fanfic and I feel like I wanna Scream. Getting to the point though, I have the intense and overwhelming need to get these ideas and stories all typed out but I don't know if I'll be able to do them well so I'm also terrified. But it's a vibe and life is supposed to be terrifying so I'm pretty damn excited</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh lordy, I've just thought of the perfect song for the sex scene (which will come eventually I promise) but unfortunately, we're not to that chapter yet. And I have the perfect song for the next chapter, but no perfect song for this chapter which is kinda upsetting but I guess check out "Otterpops in the Icebox" by Walter Mitty and his Makeshift Orchestra, which only has, like, two or three lines that have anything to do with this chapter but I fuckin' love the song sooo</p><p>Anyhoo, sorry this chapter took longer than usual to finish and post. I was distracted by my existential dread and fear of death. I'm back on the horse though, so worry not, world</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hermione!” Prescott called as she was about to leave through the Ministry floos. Hermione paused and turned to address her boss, who she hadn’t much time to talk to the last week what with all the paperwork, research, and briefing she had to do before going to Moscow and also meeting with Pansy to shop for new clothes. She smiled at him. He was wearing a bright purple button-up and a floral grey corset vest. He always dressed very flashy, making him stand out and mirroring his flamboyant personality. </p><p> </p><p>Prescott caught up to Hermione’s side and looked her up and down. “You look nice today,” he finally said after a few moments of staring in silence. “Very professional.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione looked down at her outfit, the same one Pansy had described at their first meeting in her office. She had wide-leg khaki-colored trousers with a brown belt and white, low v-necked, drapey blouse tucked into it. The blouse showed off more cleavage than Hermione was initially comfortable with, but the longer she had worn the shirt the less spartan she had felt in it. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s the idea, isn’t it?” Hermione asked. </p><p> </p><p>Prescott chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is. I was worried at first that you wouldn’t be able to manage with the new standards, but look at you! You look lovely.”</p><p> </p><p>“So do you, Prescott. I like your vest,” Hermione said with a wide smile. If she was being honest, when she got dressed this morning before coming to work, she looked in the mirror and had thought to herself that she did like how she looked. She was proud of her body even though it wasn’t perfect, even though she sometimes thought it was too big in some places and too boring in general. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy’s outfit had managed to accentuate all of Hermione’s most attractive parts (particularly her boobs and butt, but Hermione wouldn’t admit that out loud). It also wasn’t something Prescott would say because Prescott wouldn’t be paying attention to a woman’s ass and tits. But more than that, the outfit made Hermione feel like she actually belonged in her position of such importance. </p><p> </p><p>“Draco Malfoy tailored it actually. You know him, right?” Prescott asked. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione smiled fondly, something she never assumed she would be doing with Draco Malfoy in mind. The party last night that she had been so nervous about turned out to be a good time. Malfoy and Pansy she especially liked. Malfoy was smarter than she thought, and he knew enough about international wizarding politics and had enough interest in it to hold a good conversation. Pansy was just...Pansy. She was witty and fashionable and passionate and confident and ambitious. She was everything Hermione doubted Pansy would be. She wasn’t self-centered or rude. She was honest, definitely and sometimes overly, but Pansy swore it was part of her job (“if someone’s gonna look ugly in a piece of clothing, I’m going to tell them. It’s <em>my job </em>. And it’s actually nice if you think about it in the right way”).</p><p> </p><p>Though she would never really say “crush” because she was 26 years old not 12, Hermione did have a <em> strong liking </em>for Pansy Parkinson. She never would have expected that at all.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, he’s a friend of mine, I suppose,” Hermione answered.</p><p> </p><p>Prescott nodded seriously and reached out to pat Hermione’s shoulder. “I’m glad to see you coming out of your shell, Hermione.”</p><p> </p><p>He then leisurely walked away, leaving Hermione to ponder his words. She hadn’t been in a shell, had she? Well, perhaps she had, now that she thought of it. Her whole life really was just work. She only saw Harry and Ron maybe once a month or every other month. She had gone to one of Ginny’s quidditch games a couple months ago, but her other friends from Hogwarts like Neville, Luna, Cho, Terry, Dean, Seamus, Hannah, the Patils, or anyone else—she hadn’t seen them in probably a year or more. And the last time before Pansy that she had kissed a person was most likely just as long a time.</p><p> </p><p>A shell then. A dull career-driven shell shading her from a social life with the excuse of work. It’s not exactly that she didn’t have the time to go out, and it wasn’t that she didn’t <em> want </em> to go out. Hermione just didn’t. She had stayed late at work, and before she got her job at the Ministry, she stayed late at her university’s library. The peace and the easy rhythm of sitting down to work and study and learn was so soothing, especially right after the war when everything was so loud and wild and uncontrolled all the time. Eventually, things had slowed down, became calmer, but Hermione’s late nights hunched over parchment and books never went away. </p><p> </p><p>Now though, Hermione was definitely getting out of her shell. And she knew who to blame in part: Pansy Parkinson. Okay, so perhaps it wasn’t entirely Pansy’s fault, but she had been the one that motivated her to get out of her office and her house. She had gone to cafes and boutiques and had thought to go to the movies. Hermione had been <em>very </em> hesitant to go with Harry to Draco’s flat for dinner, but when she heard Pansy was going to be there, she readily accepted the invitation (even though it made her nerves stand on edge). Hermione had even dressed in some of her new Pansy-approved clothes. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione got to the floos and went through the green flames to her flat. Stepping out of the fireplace, she heard the tapping of an owl’s beak on her window. Hermione grabbed some owl treats and opened the window to get the letter and say hullo to the owl. After stroking the snowy owl’s feathers for a moment, she unfolded the letter it had brought along, beaming when she saw who had sent it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hermione,  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Checked my schedule, and I can go to this muggle theater of yours. I can’t promise I’ll enjoy it though. The only muggle things worth much are pens and cars. Oh! And a lot of muggle fashion but muggle fashion has become very integrated with wizarding fashion, so what’s the difference really? Does after our meeting on Tuesday work? Also, I have something more fun planned for Tuesday, and I’m rather excited about it. It’s mainly for my own pleasure though if I’m being honest. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Love, Pansy Parkinson </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione grinned. She had thought for certain Pansy would turn down her offer to go to the movie theater. After saying that they should forget about the kiss (which Hermione had still not managed to do; the kiss haunted her dreams in the best of ways because usually in her dreams, the kiss became something more) and seeming so unsure when Hermione had first asked about it outside her flat, Hermione would have thought that Pansy would turn down the offer of what could possibly be seen as a date to the untrained eye. To the trained eye, however, one could <em> easily </em> see that it was not a date, nothing close to a date. In fact, it was just a businesswoman and her infatuated client going to a movie together where there would be absolutely no cliche romance moments. Even though Hermione would love to hold Pansy’s hand or sling her arm nonchalantly over her shoulders or make out in the back of the theater. </p><p> </p><p>Excitedly, Hermione wrote a response to Pansy’s letter, confirming the time and trying to seem as though she was not at all nervous or curious about this “something more fun” and <em>definitely </em>attempting not to seem anxious about their not-date.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>Pansy’s nervousness for what almost seemed like a date (but probably wasn’t considering Hermione’s quickness to accept the suggestion to just forget about the kiss) was put almost out of thought with Pansy’s anticipation. </p><p> </p><p>“Hermione!” Pansy exclaimed as she walked through the glass entrance doors. Pansy had been waiting in the lobby for nearly half an hour now. She went up to a startled Hermione and loosely grabbed her hand. At first, she didn’t think much of it until she realized that “oh my god, I’m holding Hermione’s hand again, and it’s absolutely lovely”. Pansy lightly pulled Hermione back out the building. “We’re going to Theo’s—Theo Nott’s—today.”</p><p> </p><p>“His house?” Hermione asked, brow wrinkling in confusion. Pansy supposed she had a right to be confused. After all, Pansy seemed overexcited even in her own opinion, and she hadn’t told Hermione anything about today other than “new” and “for my own pleasure”.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Pansy laughed. “To his shop. He owns a beauty store. Mostly makeup but also, like, facemasks and lotions and hair products.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to do my makeup?” Hermione questioned. She didn’t seem too wary about it, so Pansy took that as a good sign.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, if it’s okay with you of course,” Pansy added. Obviously, she wasn’t going to anything Hermione didn’t want her to do, but that didn’t stop Pansy from itching to get her hands on that face. She didn’t think Hermione even wore makeup, yet her skin still glowed. Hermione had the type of skin that anyone who knew anything about skin would die for. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy held out her wand to summon the Knight Bus, flinching slightly when it sped up in front of her going Merlin knows how fast. Sal stepped out to greet Pansy, his smile wide and bright. He stopped smiling when he caught sight of Hermione, corners of his lips turning down into a frown. </p><p> </p><p>Sal was a great guy, and he had seen the best and worst of all the people Pansy ever took home. Unfortunately, most of the people Pansy dated or slept with tended to fall into the “worse” category of things. So of course, Sal was a bit protective. He knew that Pansy often was an angry or sad person after boarding the bus with girls. Sal and Pansy were also good friends since Pansy had been riding the Knight Bus for nearly nine years.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy just gave him her best <em>seriously-this-is-how-you’re-gonna-act </em>look. He raised an eyebrow and glanced down at their still joined hands; Pansy had forgotten that her hand was still wrapped around Hermione’s. She rolled her eyes up at him and started up the stairs, dropping Hermione’s hand as she went. </p><p> </p><p>Sal’s eyes followed Hermione as Pansy gave him a galleon and five sickles to pay for their ride. She decided not to ask for hot cocoa, just because she wanted this interaction to end as quickly as possible for Hermione who simply must have been feeling awkward under Sal’s intimidating gaze. </p><p> </p><p>She and Hermione were heading into the bus when Sal grabbed Hermione’s shoulder and stiffly spun her around. Holding her in that place, he looked down at her, all 194 centimeters of him staring sternly into her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t hurt her,” he grunted out, quite scarily even to Pansy who knew he was nothing like how he was acting. He was a sweetheart truly.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, we aren’t togeth—I mean, I’m not, or she’s not—” Hermione paused, pressing her lips together. “I won’t,” she said finally. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay, big guy,” Pansy said once Hermione was done with her stuttering. “Any other overdramatic warnings or can we go inside? It’s December, Sal, and I’m about to freeze my bloody tits off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fine,” Sal huffed. “Go on.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s got to be a Slytherin,” Hermione said to Pansy once they were sat down on a lumpy green couch. “He’s terrifying.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy laughed out loud, ignoring the twinge of pain that her words brought up in her. “He was a <em> Hufflepuff</em>, Hermione. But how biased of you to assume intimidating immediately means Slytherin. Don’t you know that Hufflepuffs are hardworking and loyal and patient? Hardworking because he’s been working on this bus since Stan, the old conductor, got Imperio’d during the war. Loyal because he’s willing to be a douchebag to you because he loves me so much. And patient because he deals with me nearly every day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, that makes a lot of sense,” Hermione said softly, hands entwined firmly in her lap and her eyes focused on the floor of the bus.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy snorted and rolled her eyes. “You <em> really </em> hate being wrong, don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Hermione asked, head snapping around to look at Pansy. “Of course not. I’m perfectly fine being corrected.” Pansy raised her eyebrows questioningly, and Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. “I’m serious, Pansy. I can easily admit that I’m wrong.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy didn’t want to fight this. If Hermione couldn’t even admit that she wasn’t able to admit things, it was hopeless to attempt to change her mind. Some people just couldn’t let their minds be changed by anything, and it was a shame that the object of Pansy’s infatuation was one of those obstinate people.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Pansy said then clapped her hands to end the discussion as the bus jerked to a stop, the momentum causing Pansy and Hermione to fly forward and nearly fall off the couch. They stood to leave when the bus stilled, and Pansy turned to Hermione. “You are okay with makeup today, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” Hermione said with a quick nod as they exited the bus. “I’m not very good at it though, and I really only wear it for special occasions.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it’s okay if you’re not good at it, because I’ll be doing it for you,” Pansy told her with a grin.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Hermione said quietly, a look Pansy couldn’t quite discern passing over her face.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s okay?” Pansy questioned. She always made sure her clients were comfortable; she didn’t want to force them into something they didn’t want to do. Of course, part of her job was pushing people out of their comfort zone, but she knew that every client had their limits and there was a fine line between good uncomfortable and bad uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, very okay,” Hermione said, nodding her head quickly but with that same look on her face.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy sighed. “I really wish I could get into that head of yours.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s pretty boring in there,” Hermione told her with a small smile. “Mostly politics and international policies and affairs nowadays. You wouldn’t like it much.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy elbowed her as they walked the rest of the way down the cobblestone street to Theo’s store. “Hey, I could be into politics and international hogwash if I wanted to be.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione held the baby blue door of the shop open for Pansy and laughed. “My job isn’t <em> hogwash</em>, Pansy.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t say it was!” Pansy exclaimed, hoping she hadn’t offended Hermione at all. She assumed she hadn’t since Hermione was smiling and laughing, not frowning and looking upset.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy was distracted from looking affectionately at Hermione when Theo tapped her shoulder lightly. She turned to smile and hug him. She pulled back and held his face between her hands, squinting at his face.</p><p> </p><p>“You skipped your meals again today,” she stated and shook her head at him, not bothering to ask. She pulled her wand and <em>accio</em>ed a crumpet sitting on the table outside the cafe across from Theo’s shop. The woman who the crumpet belonged to looked up at her flying food and watched as it flew into Pansy’s waiting hands. </p><p> </p><p>“Pansy! You can’t steal food,” Hermione scolded as Pansy called out to the now slightly upset lady, “Bring it up with Daphne, the owner.”</p><p> </p><p>The woman harrumphed and got up from her seat, heading back into the cafe. Pansy handed the food to Theo, raising her eyebrows until he took it with a sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t eat at work,” he said. “I have customers.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re your customers right now, and we’re okay with it,” Pansy said with a matter-of-fact smile. “Right, Hermione?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, sure, go for it,” Hermione said with a nod, and Theo took a bite of the crumpet. He closed his eyes briefly in satisfaction before quickly opening them and asking Pansy what she needed today.</p><p> </p><p>“Color matching with that fun muggle machine of yours, then I can do the rest,” Pansy answered, pushing Theo and Hermione ahead of her into the store so she could close the door. “You’re gonna let the cold air in.”</p><p> </p><p>They all shuffled in, and Theo led Hermione to a seat at the color-matching station as Pansy strolled over to the half of the store with rows and shelves of makeup. It took her a while to find what she wanted for Hermione, something simple with neutral colors but still fun and different and pretty. </p><p> </p><p>“Did you match her?” Pansy asked, coming up to where Hermione and Theo were, Hermione sitting on a black leather stool and Theo leaning against the countertop.</p><p> </p><p>“Yep, 38,” Theo answered then turned to Hermione. “In our main and most inclusive foundation line at the store, we have 50 shades, each made by yours truly and Alicia Spinnet, who you may know. She played on the Gryffindor quidditch team and is a few years older than us. Anyhow, both muggle and wizarding makeup brands have struggled in the past, and the present too, to make enough colors for people with any skin tone and of any race, which is what Alicia and I set out to do with our brand, <em> Wicked </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because fuck colorism,” Alicia said as she suddenly appeared behind Theo and rested her chin on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, exactly, but that still can’t be the catchphrase,” Theo said, and Alicia pouted at him as he explained, “No cuss words unfortunately.”</p><p> </p><p>“What a shame,” Pansy hummed as she grabbed the 38th shade from the shelf nearest them. It would match perfectly, dark and warm and brown with yellow undertones but not as glowy and bright as Hermione was. But then again, maybe it was just Hermione that was bright and seemed to glow. Skin could only take credit for so much after all. “What about ‘colorism is for cunts’?” Pansy suggested as she walked back over.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s good!” Alicia exclaimed, moving her head up from Theo’s shoulder. “Babe, that gets the point across <em> and </em>has alliteration.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cunt is a cuss word,” Theo said with a sigh.</p><p> </p><p>“No, not really,” Hermione pitched in with a small grin. “It’s technically a body part.”</p><p> </p><p>“You oughtta listen to her,” Alicia said, planting a kiss on Theo’s cheek. “She’s Hermione Granger, and therefore probably the smartest person in this room.”</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>Hermione <em>was </em>a fairly smart person, which was why it confused her when Alicia came over to them and wrapped herself around Theo, kissed his cheek, and called him ‘babe’. They looked lovely together of course. Both of them tall and wiry and with wide smiles and eyes that lit up when they looked at each other. But…</p><p> </p><p>Alicia had screamed at Draco once when he had called Hermione a mudblood at Hogwarts. She had been one of the most opinionated people in Dumbledore’s Army, always fiery and pissed off when any of the Slytherins (including Theo) were mentioned. She could go off for days on “bloody stupid Slytherins and their fuckin’ supremacist values, ought to shove their foolish uneducated opinions up their arses; oh wait, they already their heads up their arse, nearly forgot about that, and how could I when they’re so ignorant and haughty for no good damn reason? Bloody purebloods, what a bunch of twats. Barmy toffs don’t know shit except what their daft, shitty, good-for-nothin’ parents taught them”. She really could have gone on for days if you’d let her, and yet here she was, presumably dating Theodore Nott, one of those aforementioned Slytherins. </p><p> </p><p>First, Harry and Draco and now Alicia and Theo. Harry, she could almost understand. Ever since the war, he was so full of love and forgiveness and always went on about unity and how the wizarding world needs to work together to become whole again. It was almost annoying how optimistic Harry had been, especially directly after the war ended, about bringing the wizarding world together again in peace and unity.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione would have guessed that Alicia would be far less forgiving, given how full of fire and how quick to anger she was. Passionate, really, was the best word for it. And stubborn. Maybe intransigent. But apparently, she had gotten past that and was now chumming it with Theodore Nott and probably the rest of the Slytherins too. </p><p> </p><p>“What in Merlin’s name are you thinking about, Hermione?” Pansy asked as she set out a few things on the counter beside the mirror she was sitting in front of. “I can practically hear you thinking.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione shook her head slightly and looked down at where her hands sat intertwined in her lap. “Nothing really. It’s just odd, Alicia and Theo.”</p><p> </p><p>“You think?” Pansy murmured, flipping open an eyeshadow palette. “I think it’s lovely. They got married a few months ago, in what—August? They’d been dating since around Theo opened the shop.”</p><p> </p><p>“When was that?” Hermione asked as Pansy moved toward her, small makeup brush in hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, must have been, five, six years ago,” Pansy said, moving in dangerously close to Hermione’s face, close enough that she could just almost feel Pansy’s breath warm against her cheek. “Close your eyes.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione closed them. “Jeez, how could I have not known about it this whole time?”</p><p> </p><p>She heard Pansy shrug as she brushed color gently onto her eyelids. “How could you have known? You’ve never really talked much outside your Hogwarts group, have you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, not really,” Hermione admitted because in all honesty, she really hadn’t. There’d been no time to make new friends when all she did was study and work and work some more. “But Alicia is a Gryffindor and she knows Angelina really well. And Angelina is married to George, and George is Ron’s brother. And I know Ron, so it’s just...odd that I never knew. And Harry and Draco, I feel like I was the last one to find out for certain about them, so who knows how much else has passed me by while I’ve been doing—well, nothing. While I’ve been doing next to nothing except working all the time”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione had started talking faster and faster, getting far louder than she needed to be to talk to someone only a couple of inches in front of her. She felt a soft cool hand on her cheek and just barely leaned into it. She opened her eyes to look up at Pansy.</p><p> </p><p>“You haven’t been doing nothing, Hermione. I mean, can’t you see that all your work has paid off?” Pansy asked. “You’re going to <em> Moscow</em>. To meet with hundreds of delegates from other wizarding nations. Who else gets to do that? Not people who lounge around and don’t do work. Draco says you’re on the road to be the British Delegate once Hayhurst resigns.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, maybe. If I manage to get dressed up enough for it,” Hermione said with a smile, her worries eased by Pansy’s words. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s what you got me for,” Pansy smirked. “Now close your eyes. I’m trying to do your makeup.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy’s hand didn’t move from her chin after that, just stayed gently gripping her jaw to keep Hermione’s head steady as she worked. Holding her just like she had when they had kissed, holding her just as tenderly but this time even closer. Hermione knew if she opened her eyes, she would be able to see Pansy as up close as ever, be able to look into her hazel eyes and let her eyes wander her pale, pale face. And if she were to lean forward only a couple of inches or so, their lips would meet and then it would be mouth on mouth and then maybe tongue with tongue and then maybe so much more. Maybe Pansy would put her arms around her and pull her close so they were chest to chest, and there was no room between them, everything was touching. And then there would be no clothes, just skin and skin and skin and—</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Pansy said, pulling back from Hermione’s face with a clap. “All done. How’s it look? I used the <em> Golden Snidget </em>palette by Esmerelda Jordan for all the eyeshadow, and I swear I <em> thought </em>about putting foundation and highlighter and bronzer and such on you, but Merlin, Hermione, your skin is just so goddamn perfect. You have a natural shine that people would <em>kill </em>for. Simply beautiful. Just lovely.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione blushed and hoped that it wasn’t too noticeable, though realistically she knew that Pansy was still fairly close to her and would be able to notice it probably right away. She looked at herself in the mirror and was able to notice the blush, but more than that, Hermione looked at her eyeshadow with admiration. It was made up of different tones of light and dark brown with just a hint of yellow highlighting the middle of her eyelid. It was pretty, definitely, but also not something Hermione would ever be able to do for herself. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I—Thank you. It’s amazing, Pansy,” Hermione said, looking at Pansy in the mirror instead of herself. Her own face was all fine and good, but Pansy’s eyes were bright and covered with smokey eyeshadow. Her lashes long and elegant, her eyebrows thin and arched. And her nose was so cute, all tiny, pointy, and upturned. Her thin upper lip and fuller lower lip coated in dark purple lipstick. Pansy was so undeniably pretty, and all her makeup and clothing accentuated everything that was already so great about her physically.</p><p> </p><p>Their eyes met, and Hermione smiled shyly. Pansy just grinned wide at her. That was another thing Hermione liked about Pansy: she wasn’t scared to show her emotions, good or bad. She was honest about how she felt and she let it show plainly on her face. Hermione greatly admired that.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Pansy said, breaking the mirror eye contact to turn and look directly at Hermione. “I’m going to get some lip gloss then we probably need to head to this muggle thing of yours.”</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The movie had amazed Pansy, not so much because of the plot or the characters or anything as complicated as that (though all the aforementioned things were lovely) but more for the wow factor of the video, something Pansy had never seen before. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How does it keep everyone moving? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Pansy had asked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wizarding photos only last a few seconds at most. How can muggles do things like this without magic? It’s the longest photo I’ve ever seen. Perhaps it’s just a lot of photos smashed together? How do they switch them out so quickly then? Hermione, you’ve got to explain this to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy didn’t care that she probably seemed ignorant. In fact, she was glad because it meant Hermione invited her out to a late dinner so she could explain the art and science of muggle video. And that one dinner and movie after their Tuesday meeting lead to more dinners and lunches and movies after their other meetings in the following week </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They were not dates though. Because they never ended with kisses or makeout sessions, and whenever their hands or shoulders skimmed, they dutifully ignored it and pulled away from each other. Pansy was cautious to keep her body parts to herself, meaning no footsie under tables and no holding hands as they ate and no leaning on Hermione’s shoulder during a movie. Pansy ached for it, and each of the barely-there touches they shared just made Pansy ache more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wouldn’t have called that first kiss between them a mistake, not at all, but it definitely had messed Pansy up in the head. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, she waited excitedly for Hermione to show up at her office building. She helped Hermione zip up dresses and button up shirts with shaky hands, showing how much the closeness affected her. Tingles went up her arm when Pansy grabbed Hermione’s hand to help her into the Knight Bus or out of her seat. Whenever she was with Draco or the other Slytherins, all she ever talked about was Hermione and her perfect skin and her beautiful soft bushy hair. At night when she touched herself, fingers going inside her underwear and circling and pressing on her clit, she came to thoughts of Hermione Granger and that beautiful head of hair between her legs. She would wake up in the morning wondering which day it was and how much time until Tuesday or Thursday when she would be able to see Hermione. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most of all, Pansy had started to worry about and dear the day that Hermione wouldn’t be her client anymore. That day would mean they never saw each other again, or if they did, it would be rarely and probably just through Draco and Harry forcing their two groups together. And it would be lovely to see Hermione in a group of course, but it simply wouldn’t be the same as spending time alone and going on definitely-not-dates with Hermione. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy was absolutely smitten, and she had no idea what she would do once Hermione was good as gone. Thank Merlin she was having a meeting with one of the most famous and well-known designers in Britain, Gideon Gallagher. Earlier in the year, Gallagher had reached out to her and a couple other up-and-coming designers in Britain to find a partner for the Gallagher summer line. Pansy had sent in some of her favorite designs, some clothes she had sewn and tailored herself, and hoped to hear back from Gallagher and his associates come December. Working with Gideon Gallagher would make a person’s career in both the wizarding and muggle world of fashion. It was truly and really the opportunity of a lifetime.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And here Gallagher was sitting across from her in her obnoxiously pink office, looking at Pansy’s neon green tube top with ‘bitch’ printed in bold letters across it, matching neon biker shorts, black platform boots, and a black feather jacket. In Pansy’s defense, the meeting was a complete surprise to her, and had she known about it beforehand, she would have made sure not to wear something with ‘bitch’ written across it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The conversation between her and Gallagher seemed to pass vaguely and quickly, and she barely remembered it afterward. This was life-changing. It was everything Pansy had been working for and dreaming of. She had been chosen to design a whole line of clothing with one of the biggest, most popular designers in Britain—all of Europe even!—and it was the absolute perfect thing to replace Hermione in her life once she was gone.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yall, i hope ya like it so far cuz i don't know how i feel about it. so constructive criticism is welcomed. </p><p>leave a comment and kudos if ya'd be so kind. Pleasing the people who read my stuff is probably my biggest motivation to actually sit down and write :,)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yeEhAw, first off, this story is doing way better than I first imagined so, like, thanks a goshdarn million because I really heckin' appreciate it &lt;3</p><p>and also, song for the chapter: She Doesn't Love Me by Billy Cobb because holy hell, it fits the emotions so well in the chapter, I think, and it's also just a great song so check it out if you have any interest in that. </p><p>and thankyou again. i write a crap ton but I still can't find a way to put how grateful I am for readers and jazz into words :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I have big news,” Pansy had said as she taught Hermione how to do the simple makeup look they’d decided on for the ball in Moscow. When Hermione asked curiously what the news was, she said that she wanted to wait to tell her until once they were eating. So Hermione had waited until they were done in Theo’s and then all through another measuring and look-through at Draco’s boutique. Pansy had pulled Hermione to one corner of the shop where she gazed lovingly at a few racks of clothes and mannequins that she introduced as her ‘absolutely lovely children, Rowen and Umi and Sia’. </p><p> </p><p>“Does this have to do with your <em> big news </em>?” Hermione had asked. Pansy’d just smirked and told her to look at the clothes and tell her what she thinks. And finally, an hour later, they were eating chips in the Leaky Cauldron. </p><p> </p><p>“So,” Pansy said, clapping her hands (because apparently she did that to start conversations too). “There’s this <em>amazing </em>designer, Gideon Gallagher, and a couple of months ago, he reached out to me to see if I had any interest in working with him on his summer line. And, like, <em> of course</em>! Of course, I have interest, so I sent in a few of my designs and some clothes that I had made. I was competing for the position with a couple of other people, so it wasn’t for sure. But guess the fuck what, Hermione.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione knew where this was going, and she was already excited for Pansy. Throughout their dinners and lunches and such, Pansy had told Hermione all about her work, about how far she had come since working in a small muggle clothing store, about what she hoped would happen in the future for her work. This is what she had hoped would happen, as far as Hermione knew at least. To have her designs out in the world, and Hermione was so glad for Pansy.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll tell you the fuck what,” Pansy said, face lighting up. “Gideon bleeding Gallagher showed up at my office and told me that I was the most promising of all his applicants and that he wants to work with me for the Gallagher summer line. Merlin, it’s so surreal that I can barely remember the conversation let alone believe it <em>happened</em>. Do you know what this means for me, Hermione?”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione didn’t know if Pansy even cared to hear Hermione’s response. It was more as though she was talking to herself out loud than to Hermione, but that was okay. She looked lovely doing it, her ardent emotions showing clearly in her face and posture. She leaned forward across the table, waving her hands around as she explained enthusiastically, eyes wide and shining with fervor. Hermione just smiled widely and nodded along to Pansy’s excited words and elucidation of everything that working with Gideon Gallagher would mean for her. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy reached across the table and grabbed Hermione’s wrist tightly then entwining her warm and slightly sweaty hand with Hermione’s. Pale white skin contrasted with dark brown skin, and Hermione looked down at their joined hands fondly. In moments like this, Hermione was near-certain that Pansy was changed and wonderful and redeemed. </p><p> </p><p>“More than just making my career,” Pansy went on, moving her thumb in small circles around the space between Hermione’s thumb and index finger. “It’s something to <em>live </em>for. Something to do and love and spend all my time on. I love my job and I love my friends, but designing is what I've almost always wanted to do. I mean, fuck, Hermione, I don’t even need you or anyone else to fill my time if I have Gideon bloody Gallagher.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy laughed airily at that then went on to tell her what working with Gallagher would entail, disregarding or rather simply not noticing the frown that Hermione quickly smoothed back into a smile. Hermione tried to focus again on Pansy’s animated talking, tried to focus on her finger still making small circles on her skin, but she couldn’t get those words out of her head. </p><p> </p><p><em> I don’t even need you</em>, Pansy had said—because she had Gideon Gallagher now. She had a different project to fill her time. She didn’t like or <em>need </em>or want Hermione in her life when she had this new thing that so easily replaced her. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe Hermione was wrong about how much Pansy had changed. She was still a Slytherin, still had all the bad Slytherin qualities like selfishness and using people and carelessness with other people’s feelings. Example: Hermione herself. Who was just a short term interest of Pansy’s, just a client who was tricked into thinking she might be more, who Pansy had the audacity to imply to her face that she was easily replaced. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione had hoped that all those bad qualities had gone away throughout the eight going on nine years since Hogwarts, since the war. But they were still here, hidden well when not at the height of feelings but obvious as ever once the excitement and overwhelming emotion got into that pretty head of Pansy’s. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy squeezed Hermione’s hand, and she was pulled from her thoughts. “What’s wrong?” Pansy asked, disconnecting their hands and frowning slightly. Hermione scolded herself for unknowingly letting her feigned smile fall.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing,” Hermione answered. “Just thinking about the past.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy cringed but quickly recovered, nodding slightly. “Yeah? What about the past?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think everyone’s changed since Hogwarts? Since, well, the war?” Hermione questioned her, and she could admit just fine to herself that she didn’t care if Pansy thought whether anyone <em>else</em> changed. Hermione only wanted to know if Pansy thought she had changed since her Slytherin wrong-side-of-the-war days.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not <em>sly</em>, Hermione,” Pansy said with a roll of her eyes. “I know you’re asking if I think <em> I’ve </em>changed, and yeah, I do. I wouldn’t be where I am if I hadn’t changed. Supremacist bullies don’t make fashion lines with big-time designers. Gallagher’s a Ravenclaw; he wouldn’t have even offered the job to me if he thought I wouldn’t be seen as reformed and changed and all that good stuff by the world.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione thought that over, and her reasoning made sense. It <em>would </em>be rather unwise to work with someone the whole wizarding world might hate, and it showed great faith on Gallagher’s part that he believed Pansy was a new and better person. Gideon Gallagher, as far as she knew (which admittedly wasn’t much at all other than what Pansy had told her), was a successful person, and you don’t become successful in any industry without a good business sense and good instincts about people. So of course, Hermione took Pansy being hired as evidence of honorable change. However, it didn’t mean Pansy was <em>really </em>different. This whole conversation was evidence of a <em> lack </em>of honorable change in fact.</p><p> </p><p>“That makes a lot of sense,” Hermione said frankly. “But—”</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione, let’s not talk about this? Please?” Pansy said, a pleading look on her face. Hermione knew her facial expressions well enough by now to realize that Pansy was really desperate to drop the subject, and Hermione herself could understand at least a little bit why, or she could at least understand why she’d like to not talk about it for her own sake. Because after today, they only had two more meetings, which meant only two more dinners or lunches, which meant only two more not-dates with Pansy. It would be a shame to ruin those last couple days with Pansy </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, of course. Only have a couple days of business left and would hate to ruin these last few meetings with all…” Hermione hesitated to find the right word then just waved her hand in explanation, quietly muttering, “<em>this </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy smiled softly and nodded. “My thoughts exactly, love.”</p><p> </p><p>So they dropped the touchy subject, and Hermione asked about Gallagher’s previous lines of clothes and Pansy enthusiastically answered. Pansy eventually asked about what going to Moscow would be like and why it was necessary. Pansy didn’t know much about British wizarding politics and definitely not much at all about <em>international </em>wizarding politics, but Hermione was fine with that because it allowed her to nerd out to a willing audience who managed to ask all the right questions and at least act interested in Hermione and her work. </p><p> </p><p>The whole time they talked and ate, it was on the tip of Hermione’s tongue to tell Pansy about her worries over whether she had really changed and to tell her that she would miss her after their business relationship was finished and that she had really thought this was more than a business relationship. More than just upset that Pansy probably hadn’t changed as much as she’d first believed, Hermione was also disappointed that Pansy didn’t consider Hermione a friend, didn’t consider her as more than another client that would fill her time a few days a week. </p><p> </p><p>When Hermione went home after their meal, she collapsed on the bed, tears heavy behind her eyelids from being held back for most of the night every time she thought too hard about how <em>hurt </em>she was. There was no other way to describe it other than so goddamn hurt. She had hoped so much that they would continue seeing each other, going on not-dates to the cinema and to dinner or whatnot, but Pansy had crushed that hope tonight, telling her that she already had a replacement for the time that Hermione was currently taking up. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione finally let her tears fall down her cheeks even though she mustered enough dignity to shove her face into her pillow, just so her cheeks wouldn’t be wet with obvious tear tracks. After all, she still had plans to go to the Hog’s Head tonight with Ron and Harry and didn’t want to spend too much time making herself presentable and as if she had not recently been crying over someone she wasn’t even dating, wasn’t even friends with. It was embarrassing really, how easily Hermione had been strung along by someone who didn’t like her back. </p><p> </p><p>It was just like Hermione to get attached too easily with no sign at all it was a good idea to do so. In fact, all signs pointed to “no, what are you thinking? Don’t get attached to this person. Do you remember who they were—who they still might be?”</p><p> </p><p>Through the years, Hermione had been able to come to terms with her imperfections. Her two front teeth that were slightly bigger than all the others, her bushy and curly and sometimes messy hair, her nerdiness, her lack of social adeptness outside of the professional sense, her thighs that were too large, her soft stomach, her smart-arse tendencies, and so many other things. She never would have had to feel bad about those things had it not been for Pansy and the other Slytherin girls who were all relentlessly cruel about pointing out all of Hermione’s so-called “flaws”. </p><p> </p><p>Now that Pansy had grown up, she had apparently found better ways to hurt Hermione, and this time, it <em>really </em>hurt. Pansy was incredibly good at pretending to be her friend, at making Hermione truly believe they had a mutual liking for each other. For Merlin’s sake, Pansy had even kissed her, and she’d done it after a day where they had just started to get on with each other, when Hermione had been grateful for Pansy’s kindness and for her shoulder to lean on. Of course, Hermione was lead into believing that Pansy liked her back. </p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately though, Pansy was just good at faking it. She was a pureblood after all; fake is to be expected. Still, there were two more days where Pansy would keep faking it for Hermione. Two more meetings they would have where Pansy would most likely keep up the false pretense of requited friendship. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione would savor those last few days, even if she now knew they weren’t at all as real as they had at first seemed. Hermione was done feeling upset and hurt because she had another week before she had to feel like that, before it was truly over. </p><p> </p><p>Getting up from the bed and going to the bathroom across from her bedroom, she wiped the last of the tears from her eyes and started to work on getting the puffiness and redness to fade from her eyes. Hermione wasn’t hurt; she was fine, and she’d stay fine for the next week until her and Pansy’s business was over.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>Pansy had promised to help Theo help organize and paint the upstairs of his shop where he and Alicia were soon to live. It was small and studio-sized, nothing separating the bedroom from the rest of the apartment except a colorful curtain they had put up between it and the rest of the house. Pansy wasn’t much one for physical labor, and she had mostly agreed just so she could bring some Chinese takeaway to Theo who probably hadn’t eaten all day. </p><p> </p><p>Upon arrival, she had found that he had, in fact, eaten. She shared the food with him and Alicia then gave him the usual lecture of “Theodore, I know you forget to eat when you’re stressed but you need to take care of yourself; I refuse to have a repeat of seventh year and when you opened this place” before they all started the painting. The light blue looked obviously unprofessional and when Theo pointed this out with a small frown, Alicia just wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, saying “It adds character, babe.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy groaned dramatically and looked at them with feigned distaste. “Ew, now I feel like a third wheel, guys. Look what you’ve done.”</p><p> </p><p>“You <em>are </em>a third wheel,” Theo said bluntly and Alicia suggested, “Next time invite Hermione then. You both seem to get along rather well, and I could do to be around another Gryffindor for once.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy frowned. “I don’t think Hermione likes me much so that probably won’t be happening that I know of.”</p><p> </p><p>Alicia laughed incredulously, shaking her head at Pansy. “That’s not <em>true</em>. She’s obviously smitten.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not to take a side, but I agree with Alicia,” Theo said as he let go of Alicia to dip his paint roller and get to work again.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you do,” Pansy said. “She’s your wife. You’d agree with her even if she were wrong. Which she is because Hermione most definitely is <em> not </em> smitten because how could anyone ever in the world fancy a Slytherin?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, excuse me, I fancy a Slytherin,” Alicia disputed. “And, in fact, I’m married to one.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep, and Hermione seemed very confused about that when we were here on Tuesday,” Pansy said matter-of-factly.</p><p> </p><p>Theo hummed. “It’s not that confusing. I’m stunningly handsome after all.”</p><p> </p><p>Alicia rolled her eyes and Pansy told him, “We established a long time ago that you’re a solid seven on the average day, so handsome? Sure. Stunningly so? Not really. <em> And </em> that’s not what she was confused about.”</p><p> </p><p>“So what was she confused about then?” Alicia asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Probably about how a brave, honorable, and <em>perfect </em> Gryffindor could ever deign to talk to let alone date a sleazy nasty Slytherin who was an arsehole in school,” Pansy answered, widening her eyes as if it were actually that hard to believe.</p><p> </p><p>“I take great offense to that,” Theo replied, his tone dry and distracted—probably because he was the only one still painting and was focused more on his home not looking like shit than he was on Hermione Granger-related drama.</p><p> </p><p>“I would argue that you guys aren’t at all sleazy or nasty any more, but you are occasionally arseholes,” Alicia said. “That’s just who you guys are though. And when Theo’s being grumpy and rude, I can usually tell him to stop and he does. I’m sure that wouldn’t have worked at Hogwarts because the whole lot of you were so bloody stuck-up. I can’t imagine how hard it was to carry the weight of your egos back then.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not grumpy,” Theo muttered mostly to himself, sounding decidedly grumpy.</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly!” Pansy agreed with a fervent nod. “We’re changed people these days, very honorable citizens.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>T</em><em>he Daily Prophet </em>said Theo was redeemed when they last covered <em> Wicked </em>and our shop,” Alicia said. </p><p> </p><p>“Gideon Gallagher told me he was glad to see I had changed from my cruel and bigoted ways,” Pansy added. </p><p> </p><p>“Gideon Gallagher?” Theo asked loudly, turning from the wall to look excitedly at Pansy.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh huh,” Pansy said and clicked her tongue. “It’s odd that he can forgive me of my past mistakes after having met me only once but Hermione can’t do it after six dates.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not so much about forgiveness as it is about just coming to terms with it,” Alicia told her.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you know, like yeah, Theo is shitty sometimes, but <em>everyone </em>is shitty sometimes. At Hogwarts, you guys were terrible all the time, and it’s hard to get over that fact. When I had just started dating Theo, I could sometimes only remember him as this horrible person, and whenever he showed any minuscule sign of him being Theo from Hogwarts, I would half think to stop seeing him,” Alicia said.</p><p> </p><p>“It took her a rather long time to realize I’m only at a <em> normal </em>level of terrible,” Theo said. “Just a regular person who isn’t perfect and has some bad personality traits.”</p><p> </p><p>“But who isn’t defined just by the bad things,” Alicia said, heading toward Theo to kiss his cheek and smile affectionately at him. “Because there’s plenty of good things that make up part of that definition.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s obnoxiously sweet,” Pansy said, holding back a smile at the sight of her friends so happy and content with each other. </p><p> </p><p>Alicia nodded. “You should tell Hermione that.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy snorted. “No thank you, Alicia. I’d thought you knew me well enough by now to know that I’m not quite brave enough to bring up testy subjects.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you can do it. Summon some Gryffindor courage,” Alicia suggested with a teasing smile.</p><p> </p><p>“I would <em>never</em>,” Pansy said, pressing a melodramatic hand to her heart. “Anything even slightly Gryffindor goes against everything I believe, everything I am as a person. I couldn’t possibly.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you need to,” Theo said.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy dropped her hand and sighed. “I don’t. We won’t even see each other any more after she’s done as my client.”</p><p> </p><p>“Won’t you though?” Theo asked. “Now that Draco and Harry are practically official, you’ll be seeing more of each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“Won’t be the same,” Pansy said with a dismissive wave of her hand then suggested. “Do you guys want to go out? I think Blaise could get us some free drinks and then we can come back and paint tipsy.”</p><p> </p><p>“That sounds like a <em> terrible </em>idea,” Alicia said with a wicked grin. “I’d love to.”</p><p> </p><p>“Our home is going to look awful,” Theo muttered as Alicia went to grab her satchel of coins.</p><p> </p><p>“Nuh-uh-uh,” Alicia scolded. “It’s gonna look like it has <em> character </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Character my arse,” Theo said. Alicia just took the paint roller from his hands and pulled him towards the stairs leading down to the first-floor shop. Pansy waited a few seconds before following them, staying to look around the place her friends called home. Theo and Alicia, against all odds, were happy here. They had overcome the past and had found their place in the world. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy hoped that she was headed in the right direction with Gideon Gallagher. It was what she had always of dreamed of, and she was excited about it—she really was! But the question of <em>is it enough? </em> scratched at her skull. She looked at Theo who had his business, had his makeup line, had his wife, and was soon to have a newly renovated home. All those things made him complete and happy and content. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy wondered if Gideon Gallagher was enough to make her complete.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hermione,  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Come to my flat tonight? I have a lovely night planned if you’d be so kind as to attend. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> - Pansy </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hermione smiled as she read the letter and hurried to find a parchment and quill to write back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Pansy,  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I can’t help but wonder what a “lovely” night with you entails. I can’t imagine that it would be anything short of blissful, and frankly, I can’t help but to think of it when I spend nights alone. I’d be glad to come—8 work? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sincerely, Hermione </em>
</p><p> </p><p>In the minutes after Hermione sent her letter, she panicked about maybe being too forward with the small sexual insinuation, but in her defense, Pansy had really started it by having her letter be so enigmatic and lacking in any and all detail. The flush on her face turned from something worrisome to something closer to bashfulness.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hermione, </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I’ve actually been told that blissful is too small and sweet an adjective. Rough, passionate, climactic? I believe those are commonly used by the people with whom I spend nights. If you need something sweet though, I can do my best to supply. Women as beautiful as you shouldn’t be spending nights alone, but I guess I’m happy to be there with you at least in thought. 8 works perfectly. </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> - Pansy </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hermione shivered at the words. That was sexual, right? Those words had a fairly obvious sexual connotation as far as Hermione could tell. She wasn’t any bit experienced with insinuations over owl (or over floo call or face-to-face conversation or at all), but she wasn’t stupid. </p><p> </p><p>Seeing that she wasn’t stupid, Hermione stopped to think about what to reply with. On one hand, she could reply with more insinuations, more things that could seem slightly sexual in this context, and nothing would come of it, leaving Hermione to feel sad and nostalgic for something that never happened once Pansy was more or less gone from her life. Or she could stop the insinuations, saving her the pain. Then again, she could be a reckless, thoughtless, in-the-moment Gryffindor.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Pansy, </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>I’m about to go to work, otherwise I would come over right now and </em><em>show</em> <em>you how easily I can handle a rough, passionate, climactic night. Would you need me to be gentle with you though? Or can you take what you give? I can be sweet, I can be filthy, I can be whatever you need. I’ll see you at 8.</em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sincerely, Hermione </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hermione put her parchment and quill back, checked her appearance in the mirror, and headed through the floo to work. The whole day, she shook with anticipation for the night ahead. Knowing realistically that nothing would probably happen didn’t stop her from fantasizing that it might. Either way, it was more time spent with Pansy, and therefore, it would be good.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>Pansy is <em>not </em>a coward. She never has been and never will be, so when she immediately rushed to Draco’s room to see if he was free for a fun night with her and Hermione, it was not out of cowardice but out of kindness and thoughtfulness for a friend who she hadn’t seen in a while. Draco had at first been hesitant to come, saying that he might see Harry tonight and that he was rather excited for that.</p><p> </p><p>“Draco, please,” Pansy had begged, reaching up to put her hands on his shoulders and hold him in place thus forcing him to look into her pleading eyes. “I’ve been with you since we were babies! We practically came out of our mothers’ vaginas just to say hullo to each other the next second. You’re my <em>best friend</em>, and you’re choosing your ‘not-boyfriend’ over me, the woman who’s stood with you through thick and thin, through dark and light, through sickness and health? Are you really so reprobate that you would leave me alone through this?”</p><p> </p><p>“Merlin, Pansy, fine,” Draco sighed, and Pansy released him with a satisfied grin. He gave her a bored look and rolled his eyes. “I’m bringing Daphne though. I’ve been meaning to talk to her, and I also refuse to be a third wheel to <em>any</em> relationship let alone an awkward, unestablished one. And speaking of which,” he added with renewed energy, “Harry is no longer my ‘not-boyfriend’. He finally mustered up the courage to talk to me, and we are very much established at this point.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank goodness,” Pansy said. “Everyone else knew it, so we’re glad you both finally got your heads on straight.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco snorted. “Nothing about the situation is <em> straight</em>, Pansy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ever the witty one, Draco,” Pansy said with an amused smile. “And thank you, by the way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anything for my ‘best friend, the woman who I crawled out of the womb for and who has stood with me through apparently everything,” Draco mocked with a nonchalant wave of his hand.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy got up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, wrapping her arms around his narrow waist and pulling him tight. Upon release, he wrinkled nose, pretending like he didn’t care for a hug from his since-birth bestie. Pansy just smiled back at him, knowing full well that Draco loved her even if he pretended it was distasteful to even be in her presence. </p><p> </p><p>“Be there at eight, love,” Pansy said and bid her farewell as she picked up the floo powder to head to work. She’d skip the Knight Bus today since she’d spent too long owling Hermione and making puppy eyes at Draco.</p><p> </p><p>“Coward!” Draco called to her as she said the address and disappeared through the green flames.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy scoffed as she stepped out into the lobby at 304 Temperance Row. <em> She was not a coward</em>. Really, she wasn’t. She was just looking out for herself, and she knew full well that having sex with Hermione was probably a bad idea. Even barely, somewhat talking about it over letters had possibly ruined the already fragile semblance of professionalism Pansy was trying to uphold for no good reason. It was hard already to disguise all the extra time with Hermione as something businesswoman like Pansy usually did with their clients. </p><p> </p><p>Of course, Pansy had never taken her clients out on what were practically dates. Pansy definitely didn’t write blatantly sexually suggestive letters to her clients. Then again, Pansy had never been as attracted to her other clients as she was to Hermione. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Pansy said to herself as she boarded the elevator, and a photographer from the third floor flicked her a questioning glance. “I’m fucked,” she explained to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Mm, aren’t we all?” he replied shortly.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy contemplated that and then decided that she was going to be a tad selfish today and focus only on her own personal fuckedness and lack thereof by Hermione bloody Granger.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thank ya thank ya thank ya for reading and feel very free to leave a kudos or comment if ya see fit, I love ya and hope you're doing swell</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>okay okay im sorry that this chapter took forever for me to write and I really have no excuses but I finally sat down with a bucket of icecream and an ounce of motivation and managed to pick it back up so yup here it is, please enjoy babes</p><p>okay so I lost motivation again but then found motivation again in the form of spaghetti and imallexx so goody and my sincerest apologies (both to my stepmom for stealing her lunch and to my readers who I made wait far too long)</p><p>okay I had to reread to kill a mockingbird and write an essay about it because apparently we had to do that over the summer but our class's teacher failed to mention it and I had to do it in like three days before school started back up but I'm incredibly committed to finishing this fic</p><p>okay I'm making time in my schedule to write, first week at school has been pretty crazy (we already had tests in three of my ap classes!! it's been three days??) thankyou for your patience and fate willing, I should get the next chapter up more quickly</p><p>anyhoo, the song pheromones by meth wax. it's just a sex song. just sex. you cant even make it seem like something else</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione had expected the night to consist of time between just Pansy and her, but when she arrived at Pansy and Draco’s flat, Daphne and Draco were lounging on the sofa, legs draped over one another’s and heads tilted toward each other, both of them smirking and chuckling quietly. Pansy rushed out of the hallway leading to her and Draco’s rooms with a distracted smile, stopping for a moment to wave at Hermione distractedly. She continued on past Draco and Daphne to the kitchen, and Hermione met her there. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t know Daphne and Draco were going to be here?” Hermione said, her voice rising at the end in question.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy shrugged and bent down to peer into the fancy wine fridge under the counter, giving Hermione a lovely view of her perfectly shaped albeit small arse. “Well, Draco was free tonight, and he wanted to invite Daphne as well. We don’t usually see each other much except for our monthly nights, so I just thought it would be nice.” She stood back up with a bottle of red wine in each hand and flicked Hermione a quick bright smile. “I get to see three of my best friends in one night. Is red wine okay?”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione blushed at her so-called best friend status. She was about to reply to Pansy’s question when Daphne called out, “Pansy, doll, we’re gonna head out. I’m letting Draco try a new recipe of mine at the shop. Apologies for skipping out on spa night.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Pansy asked, looking confused and betrayed between the two of them.</p><p> </p><p>Draco just smiled. “Oh, you know how fond I am of Daphne’s bakes.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy scowled. “You’re on a low-carb diet, Draco. You don’t eat baked goods. I was even going to order from that over-priced health food restaurant for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco went to kiss both of her cheeks. “No need now,” he said and Hermione wasn’t able to see his face from where she was standing, but she saw his jaw moving with softly spoken words that Hermione couldn’t quite make out.</p><p> </p><p>Daphne blew Pansy a kiss and nodded shortly at Hermione as she held the front door open for Draco, who waved goodbye once more then stepped out, Daphne following quickly behind him. When the door clicked shut, Hermione turned toward a disgruntled Pansy whose arms were crossed over her chest. </p><p> </p><p>“What was that about?” Hermione asked after a moment of silence between them.</p><p> </p><p>“Just my friends being traitorous,” Pansy said under her breath turning to Hermoine with a renewed smile and asking, “Frozen pizza okay with you? Or there’s a lovely Chinese place down the street. Or there’s a Thai place but I can’t have anything too spicy because I <em> will </em> turn bright red.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione hummed in response and didn’t try to stop herself from saying, “There are better reasons to turn bright red. Perhaps I could show you a few?”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy squeaked as she opened the freezer and turned her head away to hide the pinkening of her cheeks. “No, that’s fine. We have a schedule to keep anyway. Food, nails, facemasks, bath, dessert, m—”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione had moved toward her as Pansy spoke, words rushing out quickly in the direction of the refrigerator. When she was close enough, she put a hand on Pansy’s hip and twisted her around. Pansy stepped on her toes as she turned around but caught herself before falling by grabbing at Hermione’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy looked down at her expectantly, and Hermione thought about what she was planning to do. Honestly, she hadn’t really thought past turning Pansy around to face her. I mean, it was obvious what Hermione wanted to do, what Pansy probably thought she was going to based on how her arms had moved to wrap around Hermione’s neck and the blush across her cheeks had gotten darker, starting to spread down her neck and up to her ears. Hermione <em>wanted </em>to kiss Pansy. </p><p> </p><p>So she decided to do it before she let herself think too much. Bringing the hand on Pansy’s hip up to wrap around her waist and her empty hand to cup her cheek, she leaned in brushing her lips questioningly against Pansy’s. Pansy leaned forward when Hermione pulled away, which was about as much of an answer as Hermione thought Pansy was willing to give so she went back in for more, for a deeper kiss. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione sighed into the kiss when Pansy licked over her lips, teasing her tongue into Hermione’s nearly desperate mouth. Her hand trailed up and down Pansy, whose fingers were curled into the curls at the nape of her neck. Hermione hadn’t dared to let herself think the kiss would last more than ten seconds, hadn’t dared to think even for a second that Pansy might want it just as much as Hermione did. But as the fingers in her hair tightened and Pansy moaned softly against her lips, Hermione couldn’t help but smile, the dreams she didn’t dare dream fulfilled. </p><p> </p><p>She pressed a kiss to the corner of Pansy’s mouth and nipped softly at her full lower lip before trailing open-mouthed kisses along her jaw where Hermione could practically feel the heat of Pansy’s flush. When Hermione bit and licked at the sensitive spot under her ear, Pansy whimpered and dropped a hand to Hermione’s arse, squeezing lightly then keeping her hand there as she tilted her neck to allow Hermione’s tongue and lips more room to roam and bite and suck reverent bruises over her pale skin.</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione!” Pansy gasped out as Hermione sucked a particularly rough lovebite above her collarbone. “Need—Need to make the pizza!”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione laughed softly and drew away from her, and Pansy relaxed back against the fridge door, her weight pushing it closed. She created quite an image to look at, Hermione thought to herself. All flushed and hot with a few purpling lovebites across her neck. The first button of her blouse was undone to show off her sharp, angular collarbones. Her eyes were closed, mouth partially open, and her chest heaving with the effort of taking even breaths. Hermione suspected she herself was no better off, her face just as hot and her breathing just as heavy, her hair mussed up from Pansy’s playful hands running through it.</p><p> </p><p>Though Hermione did have a significantly fewer amount of hickies, which made her think for a moment that she had maybe gone overboard with those. But Pansy seemed to have enjoyed it, and that was all the validation Hermione needed.</p><p> </p><p>“Merlin, Hermione,” Pansy said, letting the words out on an exhale. “You can’t just <em>do </em>that. It throws off the whole schedule. We could have been eaten by now had you been able to bloody <em> control </em> yourself.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione laughed at Pansy’s teasing disapproval. She didn’t give herself the time to think about it, any of it, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to Pansy’s cheek. “I’m afraid I can’t say that I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you can’t,” Pansy agreed, finally opening her eyes to grin at Hermione. “Bloody Gryffindors can’t help but be reckless little shits.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione didn’t quite know what to think of that statement. Perhaps it was a bit reckless to kiss Pansy, especially after a day of consistently reminding herself to absolutely <em> not </em> kiss Pansy because that would be a terrible idea because two reasons mostly. Hermione didn’t know what Pansy wanted or how she felt, and more so, Hermione didn’t know how she herself felt or what she wanted. She had reasoned with herself earlier in the day that it was probably best to keep some distance. However, in the same room alone with Pansy, past-Hermione wasn’t making much sense. It seemed like quite a lovely idea to press her body against Pansy’s and press their lips together. It was the only reasonable option, and she couldn’t stop herself, definitely couldn’t stop herself when Pansy kissed back with just as much fervor. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m just gonna use a few warming charms on the pizza because I’m <em>starving </em>and can’t wait twenty minutes for anything,” Pansy told Hermione as she flicked her wand at the pizza to remove the plastic covering and warm it up, the cheese melting and the pepperoni’s edges curling up, and once cooked, it cut itself into eight pieces. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” she said when it was ready, clapping her hands together. “Ready to eat?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ready for anything,” Hermione said, and at that moment, she knew she was truly ready for anything if Pansy was there to do it with her.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>Pansy had taken the seat across from Hermione while they ate, a whole table of space between yet Hermione’s foot had stilled rub softly against hers under the table. Surprisingly, this felt more like a date than any of their other meetings. It was significantly more intimate, perhaps because they were truly alone. They weren’t in a restaurant or a movie theater filled with other people. This was just them, and that thought simultaneously thrilled and scared Pansy.</p><p> </p><p>Though, not as much scared anymore. Because now Pansy knew Hermione wanted her too, liked her even. At the very least, she must have liked her <em> enough </em>to initiate the kiss this time around. Which was something? Which was very nearly everything. It was everything Pansy needed to give in to Hermione and let down the one wall she had up, the wall spraypainted with an obnoxious, bright red, and flashing “she doesn’t like you back”.</p><p> </p><p>Now, sitting back on her heels across from Hermione on the couch and painting a light green mask onto her face, Pansy couldn’t help but smile softly at the situation. Things were working out. Gallagher and now Hermione. This was good. </p><p> </p><p>“It smells good,” Hermione said. “What’s in it?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a eucalyptus, rosemary, and kelp skin smoothie, and it’s one of my absolute favorites,” Pancy answered, leaning a bit closer to brush the blend across Hermione’s cheeks. “The kelp is basically a wonder ingredient—firming, hydrating, anti-aging, an antioxidant, <em> and </em> it’s said to help fight cancer. I keep trying to get Daphne and Theo to release something similar to it, but they say that all their products have to be completely original. I think they’re trying too hard.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione laughed. “It’s not bad to be ambitious. I mean, look where it’s gotten you. You’re about to be partners with a big-time designer. Not because you stole other people’s designs or loosely followed them, but because you were original and unique.”</p><p> </p><p>“How would you know that my clothes are original? They could be stolen for all you know,” Pansy said and tried to keep the next sentence out of her mouth teasing instead of harsh. She didn’t quite know why she brought it up, perhaps to see if it was wrong to break down that aforementioned wall. “Surely you wouldn’t put it beyond a Slytherin.”</p><p> </p><p>“You wouldn’t do that,” Hermione told her, and Pansy couldn’t help but grin contentedly at the words as she lightly gripped Hermione’s chin to hold her steady as she finished putting on the mask. “And I doubt Gallagher would work with you if you did. Also, wasn’t that section of the store at Draco’s your designs?”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?” Pansy asked before remembering what Hermione was referring to. She had forgotten showing her the corner of the store Draco had gifted once Pansy was accepted. Draco had always promised that she could show off her clothes in his shop once she became a <em> real </em> designer, and he, being a man of his word, had gladly (not really gladly but definitely willingly) offered to her when she had brought the news. Once Hermione brought up the unchangeable ways of Slytherin, Pansy didn’t much care anymore about Gallagher and her clothes, more so just proving herself a better person. “Oh yeah, I forgot. Did you like them by the way? You never said.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know much about clothes, but they looked nice. Good texture and such. I saw absolutely no problem with them.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy beamed. She valued Hermione’s opinion. She really truly wanted to hear about her thoughts and judgment about Pansy’s clothes and designs—and about Pansy as a whole. She wanted Hermione to like her, wanted Hermione to respect her and think highly of her. More than just wanting to shag Hermione, Pansy also wished that they could just be friends. She liked who Hermione was as a person just as much if not more than she liked her arse and tits.</p><p> </p><p>“My turn to put the mask on you then?” Hermione asked, and Pansy nodded as she passed the brush and bottle to her. Hermione leaned in closer than probably necessary to brush the mask onto Pansy’s face. The few inches of space between them caused Pansy’s heart to race and skip beats, and she wondered if Hermione was affected similarly when Pansy put the mask on her or when she did her makeup. </p><p> </p><p>They went through the next hour talking about small meaningless things and funny teasing things and every once in a while a bigger deeper thing while painting each other’s nails. It took them far longer than necessary to get the nail polish neatly on each of their toes and fingers because they kept getting distracted by their conversation.</p><p> </p><p>“My parents were dentists,” Hermione told Pansy at one point as she turned her hand to drag the nail polish across her thumbnail.</p><p> </p><p>“No wonder you got your teeth fixed so easily,” Pansy teased, shivering at the tingles that shot up her arm whenever Hermione touched her in a different way.</p><p> </p><p>“No, they didn’t do that. I had obliviated them by then,” Hermione said pausing in her ministrations to look up at Pansy. Pansy had never been the best at empathy, butHermione looked rather upset about it, her lips turned down at the side and her eyes unnaturally shiny with unshed tears.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Pansy said, not certain if that was enough (and doubting that <em> anything </em> could be enough). She put her unpolished hand on Hermione’s knee, squeezing lightly. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione smiled softly. “I wish I could be gay <em> without </em> parental issues.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy laughed. “Not <em> all </em> queer people have issues with their parents.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Me, you, Harry, Draco I assume. Everyone I know does.”</p><p> </p><p>“I stand corrected,” Pansy said. “But bold of you to assume I have issues.”</p><p> </p><p>“Didn’t your mother disown you?” Hermione asked. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes, but that’s because she has issues with me. I don’t have any issues with her. She’s just...an uneducated and close-minded bigot who will never change. I’ve made my peace with that just fine.” And Pansy had. It had taken a good long time to realize that her mother would never be able to love her for her, but she had eventually understood that and been okay with that. She assumed that Hermione’s parental issues were far different than her own in that there was always at least some hope for Obliviated folks, but there was never a clear end in sight so surely your feelings and expectations would change constantly. </p><p> </p><p>“How are your parents anyway?” Pansy asked. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione shrugged and reached for Pansy’s other hand. “Better. Worse sometimes. They remember things about their early lives and about each other, but not about me yet. I think they know they love me and that they have ties to me, but they can’t place <em> why </em> yet. Hopefully someday. They’ve made quite a bit of progress either way.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you miss them?”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione glanced up at her, her brow furrowed. “I—yes, I guess. No one’s ever asked me that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really? I just thought, you know, it’s like they’re gone like on a mental vacation, so you might miss them. I’m not sure. I’m not very good at this.” Pansy admitted. “This whole ‘I’m here for you and understand what you’re going through’ because like, I <em> am </em> here for you but there’s no way I can understand what you’re going through.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione stopped completely to look at her before leaning forward across her crossed legs to wrap her arms around Pansy. Surprised, Pansy hugged her back and fit her chin into the crease of Hermione’s neck, inhaling the vanilla-scented perfume that she hadn’t yet been able to smell this well.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” Hermione whispered against Pansy’s cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“For what?”</p><p> </p><p>“For not trying to be a condescending arsehole who acts like they know how it feels,” Hermione answered. “It gets old. Even Harry and Ron are like that sometimes.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy snorted. “Knew there was a good reason I never liked them.”</p><p> </p><p>“You and Harry seemed to get along,” Hermione said.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh huh,” Pansy agreed. “But only because we both wholeheartedly enjoy making fun of Draco. So we fare pretty well if we have to. Otherwise, he’s just the guy who’s stealing my best friend and who caused him a lot of stress for a second there.”</p><p> </p><p>“Less stress now?”</p><p> </p><p>“Unfortunately,” Pansy said. “Now, it’s all just puppy love and romance. And I have to sleep across the hall from it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Puppy love and romance,” Hermione repeated softly and gazed up at Pansy, passing her the bottle of nail polish. “It’s not that bad, is it?”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy gazed back at her, and perhaps the look in her eyes was a bit affectionate though she made no attempt at hiding it from Hermione. “No, not that bad at all. Not always.”</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>“All done,” Pansy said as she pulled the warm rag away from Hermione’s cheek when she finished wiping the mask off. “Very glowy, but you’re always like that.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione felt her cheeks heat when Pansy softly trailed her fingers down the side of her face and murmured seemingly to herself, “Merlin, you’re perfect.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” Hermione said faintly.</p><p> </p><p>The whole evening so far, Hermione hadn’t even tried to pretend as if she were not infatuated with Pansy. Of course, that made her slightly nervous, but she was a Gryffindor and Gryffindor’s didn’t give in to nerves. The Sorting Hat made no mistake with Hermione, and she consistently leaned in close to Pansy, let their hands brush, laughed at all of Pansy’s jokes and barbs, flirted lightly, and complimented Pansy whenever able. She had even hand-fed Pansy a chocolate covered strawberry that she had insisted on having for dessert. And underlying it all of course was the fear that this wouldn’t last and the fear that Pansy was no different than she had been last week when she informed Hermione that she was nothing more than a time-filler. </p><p> </p><p>But to hell with worries. They only had one more day after this, and Hermione would be damned if she let it go to waste. Perhaps, if she made the very best of their final times together, they might continue seeing each other after, whether that be as friends or...something more. </p><p> </p><p>Were they friends right now? Or were they more? Or, Merlin forbid, less? The options were many: client and personal shopper, friends, acquaintances, people who had kissed on two (2) occasions. Hermione didn’t know, and at the moment, she refused to care. </p><p> </p><p>Meaning that when Pansy suggested a steamy bath, Hermione hurried to agree, and they both stripped to their bras and panties. Hermione thinks they must have managed at least two minutes in the overly large tub that looked eerily similar to the prefect’s baths at Hogwarts (although admittedly only a quarter of the size) before coming together. Pansy straddled one of Hermione’s thighs, and Hermione squeezed Pansy’s waist to pull her closer. Their tongues tangled together and the shallow water splashed lightly against their hips as Pansy grinded forward and down on Hermione’s thigh. Pansy groaned softly against Hermione’s lips, sometimes biting down gently on her lower lip or neck. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione couldn’t bring herself to care that Pansy was almost selfishly rubbing against Hermione’s thigh. She was just fine letting Pansy spatter her neck and lips with hard openmouthed kisses and knead her breasts and helplessly try to tease her nipple through her bra. </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck Pansy,” Hermione murmured when Pansy nibbled on her earlobe. “How did we even get here?”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy shrugged. “I thought to myself ‘this is boring, I want to sit in Hermione’s lap and kiss her’. And then you looked at me like you wouldn’t mind that. So I did it.”</p><p> </p><p>“So you did it,” Hermione echoed and lowered her hands to grab onto Pansy’s ass and help her move more smoothly. Pansy began dragging a hand down Hermione’s stomach, leaving goosebumps in her wake when she reached her fingers to massage Hermione’s pussy. Gasping softly, Hermione pressed up into Pansy’s hands and told her, “Don’t be shy.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy laughed in surprise at that but did as Hermione asked, slipping her hand under the waistband of her panties when the bathroom door opened unexpectedly. She jerked her hand away and looked back at the now wide open door where Draco stood, lips pursed as if he were very determined not to let his jaw fall open but forgetting to bring his eyebrows back down from his hairline. </p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” Draco said, schooling his features into apathy and turning to Pansy who was busying herself with crawling off Hermione’s lap thus leaving her thighs cold without her heat. “I was just wondering if we have any more Dreamless Sleep?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, yeah, I think so,” Pansy answered with a quick nod. “In the medicine cabinet.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco walked nonchalantly over to the sinks, leaning over the granite counter to dig around in the cabinet. After pulling out and examining a bottle, he closed the cabinet and quickly fixed his hair in the mirror, all while Hermione and Pansy watched him awkwardly. Finally, he started back toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob to turn back slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, Hermione, did you want me to send Harry in to say hi?” Draco asked with a smirk. “He’s in my room right now, but he’d probably be willing to come out and share some of the cake Daphne gave him.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione smiled, her eyes widening. While she had come to appreciate Draco’s wit and sarcastic teasing, this really wasn’t the time. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” she rushed to say. “No, that’s really fine. I really ought to leave soon anyway, and I would hate to get distracted.”</p><p> </p><p>Draco raised a delicate eyebrow. “Sometimes, distractions are rather fun though, wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione laughed nervously and refused to glance over at Pansy when she said, a bit despondently, “Sure, but distractions never last as long as I want them to.”</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>Pansy paced around outside the formal boutique on Diagon. Draco was going to be mad at her for buying from his competition, but they just had more dress options than Draco’s shop. The more dresses to look at and try on the better, because Pansy was near desperate to draw out this last meeting with Hermione for as long as possible. As much as she wanted to see her and be around her, she was also quite nervous. After all, it was a lot of pressure to make this last meeting special so it might perhaps lead to more meetings...even dates—that they actually acknowledged as dates. Dates between Hermione and Pansy, as if they would be girlfriends someday. As if they were <em>together </em>as more than client and customer.  As if they kissed and put a label on it.</p><p> </p><p>And kissing Hermione was still stuck in Pansy’s mind. She remembered how selfishly she had grinded against Hermione’s thigh, and how Hermione had grabbed her hips to help her move. Pansy liked having to heal the dark red and purple bruises on her neck, brought to the surface by Hermione’s lips and gentle teeth. Merlin, she loved Hermione’s tits. Of course, Pansy had always liked herself a nice pair of big boobs, but Hermione’s were just so lovely and she hadn’t even seen them in all their glory! But she had felt them, frantically tried to tease her hard nipples through her bra. And fuck, when Pansy had trailed her hand down to Hermione’s pussy, rubbing her teasingly and almost getting in her panties before Draco had interrupted. </p><p> </p><p>Perhaps Draco deserved to have Pansy go to his competitors. He had scared Hermione off after all which was rather rude of him. An eye for an eye and all those other skewed morals. </p><p> </p><p>“Pansy,” she heard someone say and she stilled, her steps faltering as she turned around and beamed when she saw Hermione.</p><p> </p><p>Pansy clapped her hands together, trying to distract from the blush she felt lightly heat her cheeks. “Are you excited?” she asked Hermione, gesturing at her body and then at the store. </p><p> </p><p>Hermione smiled a bit too big, almost a little fake and wary. “A tad nervous actually,” she admitted when Pansy gave her a questioning look. “The last time I wore a fancy dress was at the Yule Ball and we all knew how that year went.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m nearly certain that 4th year was mostly Crouch Jr.’s fault, but if you want to blame that tragedy of the year on a dress, so be it,” Pansy said, hoping she wouldn’t cross any lines with all this mention of Hogwarts time. “I’ll make sure you don’t buy a dress that ends up resurrecting a dark lord this time around.”</p><p> </p><p>“That would be the barest of minimums,” Hermione said. “Perhaps a flattering style and color too if possible?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m afraid it’s one or the other,” Pansy said with an exaggerated sigh and shake of her head.</p><p> </p><p>Hermione grinned up at her, assuring Pansy that this was okay, it was good, and she could say ‘dark lord’ and bring up events from Hogwarts without tears or cringing or flinching or looks that say <em>how could you possibly joke about that</em>. Draco was still like that these days. Everyone had been like that for a little while, right after the war. Eventually, it became easier for a lot of them to playfully tease about it with each other. Like <em> Pansy, let’s not freely hand over any other life-saving things like, oh I don’t know, Harry bloody Potter </em>to which Pansy would reply <em> It’s just one makeup palette, Theodore. You sound like your supremacist of a father whenever you act so holier-than-thou like this. </em> Or <em> I’ll call Voldemort himself to AK you if you don’t stop annoying me right this minute</em>. Or <em> I’ll serve on Voldemort’s side of the war before I pay for your drinks. </em></p><p> </p><p>Draco had never been like that though. Maybe he was more sensitive than the rest of them, but Pansy really knew he had just been too close to everything. He’d had to do too many things he regrets, too many things he hated himself for. He had seen too many things for a 16- and 17-year-old kid, more than most other kids had during the war. </p><p> </p><p>“You know,” Hermione started as Pansy lead her inside the boutique. “Harry can’t joke about all of it. George, Ron’s brother, can’t either. You mention Voldemort or the war, and it’s like they’re stuck there again. George couldn’t even look himself in the mirror. He died his hair, got his ears pierced, did what he could to not see Fred in himself. And Harry… He still has nightmares, flashbacks, and whatnot. Anything will start it up. Ron and I were beside him through all of it, and we both have our fair share of issues, but we weren’t as...inside it. I, sometimes at least, feel bad that I can joke about it sometimes, bring it up without the pain, while so many others can’t. It’s like rubbing it in their face.”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy nodded as they weaved through racks of dresses and tuxedos. “Hermione, you know, it’s okay to be...okay. Good even to be okay. You can’t feel bad that you’re making peace with things. Some people can’t move forward quickly, but that doesn’t mean you should also revert back to being in that much pain.” Pansy paused hesitantly, glancing at Hermione to find her listening attentively and only frowning slightly. “Have you talked to Harry about it lately? I won’t say anything for sure, but Draco says he’s getting better. They both are. They’re good for each other, you know. They understand being as close to everything because they’re practically the only people alive who were so <em>in </em>the war. They can talk about it and understand each other, and Draco at least says they’re both getting better.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione hummed. “I’ll have to ask Harry about it. But yeah, I think they work well together. Despite everything. Despite the…”</p><p> </p><p>Pansy picked up where Hermione trailed off. “The past. Despite the past.”</p><p> </p><p>They both stood in solemn silence for a few long seconds before Pansy clapped her hands and gave Hermione an awkward grin. </p><p> </p><p>“Anyhow, I suppose we should find you a dress for Moscow,” she said. “I’ll pull some I think you’ll look stunning in, and you can walk around and take a look for yourself. Try to find at least three options yourself before meeting at the fitting rooms in, say, 25 minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>With that, they parted and Pansy smiled softly to herself. This, whatever was happening between Hermione and her, was good.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>Hermione wasn’t able to get any of the dresses zipped or tied or buttoned all by herself. Or at least that was what she told Pansy. At least with half of the dresses she tried on, she could get them on by herself, but she wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to have Pansy gentle fingers brush her skin and her gaze looking up and down her body and her hands pushing hair out of the way. Every small touch made Hermione shiver ever-so-slightly, and she savored every moment of it. The simple doing-up of dresses was made all the more intimate just because Pansy was the one doing it. </p><p> </p><p>“This one,” Pansy muttered softly from behind Hermione, the breath of her words felt on the back of Hermione’s neck.</p><p> </p><p>“This one,” Hermione repeated in agreement, meeting Pansy’s eye in the mirror before breaking the eye contact to look back at the dress. She thought it looked a bit like Belle’s dress from <em> Beauty and the Beast</em>, but perhaps that was just because it was the same bright golden yellow. The top was fitted and lacy, exposing her shoulders and collarbones but the sleeves ran down all the way to her wrists. The waistline started high, practically just under Hermione’s boobs (<em>empire waist</em>, Pansy had defined as she smoothed the dress and pinned it in a few places) before falling into a wide, silky, layered skirt that seemed to swish with every minuscule movement Hermione made. “This one,” she said again with an affirmative nod, meeting Pansy’s eyes and smiling shyly.</p><p> </p><p>“Lovely,” Pansy said, taking a step back. “It just needs to be taken in a bit around your waist and perhaps we could get the wrists to be more skintight—still comfortable but just more fitted<em> . </em> You can just wear those black heels of yours. I don’t think anyone would be able to see them anyway. I know you don’t like jewelry, so don’t feel like you need to wear any with this. It looks beautiful—” Pansy cut off for a moment, sucked in her bottom lip, before restarting the sentence nonchalantly. “ <em> You </em> look beautiful with or without jewelry.”</p><p> </p><p>Hermione flustered at that, glancing quickly away from Pansy’s eyes in the mirror. Pansy just laughed softly and started to help Hermine out of her dress. As she attempted to step out of the dress, Hermione tripped, managing to catch herself from falling flat out by grabbing Pansy, one hand on her arm and the other gripping her waist. Pansy’s fingers were mere millimeters away from Hermione’s skin, the distant and almost nonexistent warmth of them waiting to see if she needed to be steadied. </p><p> </p><p>“Come to my flat?” Hermione asked before thinking about it. This meeting wasn’t enough. It wasn’t an answer at all to the question of <em>what are we</em>. Hermione could find that answer, maybe even ask outright for it if she could summon the Gryffindor guts, when Pansy was at her flat. When they were well and truly alone with each other, the tension buzzing like it always seemed to do when they were around each other. </p><p> </p><p>Pansy didn’t hesitate before answering with a bright smile. “Yes, absolutely.”</p><p> </p><p>Stepping fully out of the dress, Hermione reached for her regular clothes and changed quickly, doing her very best to ignore Pansy’s gaze lingering on her as she dressed. She found herself rather comfortable with her mostly bare body in front of Pansy. It was odd to think she would often feel awkward at the beach in a bathing suit but felt more than fine in her bra and panties in front of Pansy.</p><p> </p><p>“Ready?” Hermione asked after buckling her belt.</p><p> </p><p>“Hm, what?” Pansy asked, snapping out of her daze that Hermione was almost certain was caused by her. </p><p> </p><p>“Ready to go?” Hermione reiterated.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, yeah, yes. Just let me get the dress to the tailor here so she can adjust it, then we can head out. Good?”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfect,” Hermione said honestly. This was good. Pansy was coming to her flat, and Hermione was going to tell her she wanted more of these meetings, of these dates.</p><p> </p><p>%%%</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy didn’t think she knew what to expect when she arrived at Hermione’s flat, but then again she wasn’t at all surprised when she ended up laying back on the couch, Hermione half on top of her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, both Hermione and Pansy had the forethought to flip through channels on the television and find a boring background noise to their light conversation. Hermione offered Pansy something to drink which Pansy had declined, and they chatted for perhaps two minutes before Pansy managed to hesitantly ask, gaze stuck to Hermione’s mouth, “Can I kiss you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione had quickly nodded her consent, leaning in to gently press her lips against Pansy’s. Pansy’s heart beat loudly, and she happily deepened the kiss and allowed Hermione to push her back into the cushions, leaning over her to kiss and bite along her neck, her hands fumbling at the hem of Pansy’s blouse. Pansy arched her back, both to get closer to Hermione’s warm body but also to help her tug her shirt off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy watched dazedly when Hermione straightened up slightly to cross her arms over her chest and pull her jumper off, turning it inside out as she threw it to the floor. She leaned back in, making Pansy shiver by trailing her fingers lightly up her ribs to the band of her bra. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When—” Pansy started before pausing to inhale sharply when Hermione unclasped her bra and pulled it off, “When are you going to Mosc—” Hermione cut her off again with a kiss, beginning to press wet open-mouthed in a path toward Pansy’s collarbone, toward her breasts. “To, ah, Moscow?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione laughed softly, the sound vibrating at the top of the slope of her tit.  Pansy’s nipples hardened at the so close but still too far away sensation. “Saturday, why are we talking?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Small talk. It’s polite, y’know, pro forma,” Pansy bit out as Hermione lifted a hand to cup her breast, massaging as her tongue teased around her nipple, making Pansy desperate for her to go all in, to close her mouth around her tit and suck and nip and lick like Pansy yearned for so much. And Hermione did just that, causing Pansy to groan indecently and arch up into it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a minute, Hermione released her nipple with a gentle teasing bite to the underside of her boob, muttering seemingly to herself “so perky, so pretty” as she moved to play with Pansy’s formerly excluded nipple, continuing to roll the other one between her thumb and index finger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy moaned, throwing one arm over her face in pleasure and threading te fingers of her other hand into Hermione’s hair. It went on for what felt like forever, Pansy arching and writhing under Hermione’s touch and her tongue, whimpering and groaning when something felt especially good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>More, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Pansy decided eventually, less of a want and more of need for further stimulation and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>more more more.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“More,” Pansy gasped, hands tightening in Hermione’s hair. “Bed. More. </span>
  <em>
    <span>More.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione hummed, pulling off and nodding. She stood and dragged Pansy up with her, holding her to her chest to kiss her, hot and rough, all tongues and lips and teeth. Pansy reached behind Hermione to undo her bra, letting it drop to the floor between them. Their nipples brushed, causing them both to shiver into the kiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bed,” Pansy whined again when Hermione drew back to take a breath. She was pulled toward and down the hallway, halting continuously as they made their way to Hermione’s bedroom to kiss and fondle and unbutton. By the time Pansy was thrown on the bed, all she had on was her panties, which were being tugged down after an affirmative nod in reply to Hermione’s rushed and quiet </span>
  <em>
    <span>can I?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hovering over Pansy’s body, Hermione kissed her, sucked on her neck, slowly slowly </span>
  <em>
    <span>slowly </span>
  </em>
  <span>circled her clit with two fingers, pressing hard on it every third or fourth circle. Pansy groaned, whimpered, keened, groaned, every sound she made reciprocated by Hermione.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fingers,” Pansy whispered against Hermione’s cheek, her voice trembling with pleasure. “Inside me. Please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Pansy felt Hermione’s finger rubbing around her hole then slipping easily inside her wet pussy, she finally managed to realize fully through her horny daze that Hermione was above her, sloppily kissing her face and neck as she pumped a finger in and out of Pansy, mumbling sweet nothings like </span>
  <em>
    <span>so wet</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>so tight </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pansy, you’re so beautiful </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you look so good under me like this</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t wait to make you come on my fingers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to do this all the time,” Pansy said breathlessly, hips rising to get Hermione’s fingers deeper inside her. “You’re so </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Twice,” Hermione whispered, forehead resting on Pansy’s chest to look down as she pulled out and added another finger and reaching her thumb up to rub simultaneously at Pansy’s clit. Her tongue slipped out to lick at her nipple. All the sensations made Pansy writhe, speaking nonsense and gripping tightly at the bedsheets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione added a third finger, beginng to pump harder and deeper and making Pansy forget everything but Hermione inside her, licking her, teasing her, being with her in this new amazing way. Each thrust of Hermione’s fingers inside her was met by Pansy grinding her hips up into it, moaning loudly and unabashedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pansy,” Hermione said softly, coming up to kiss her softly. “My hand’s getting tired. Can I eat you out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy was so blissed out and the words only made her groan in reply. She was so far past having the ability to speak. Another minute, thirty seconds even, and she would come, she was certain. Through the fog of impending orgasm and the surprise of Hermione pulling her fingers out of her pussy, Pansy realized she was the only one being doted on and an idea floated into her mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me—me too,” Pansy panted, struggling to speak at all. “Want t—to eat you too, ‘Mione, please, sit on my face.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s eyes were blown wide with lust, and Pansy could have sworn they widened just slightly more at her suggestion. She nodded, saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes yes absolutely</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and crawling up Pansy’s body, turning away from her, settling her ass above Pansy’s chin then leaning forward. She licked a stripe down Pansy’s stomach, her muscles rippling under her gentle tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she began sucking and licking on Pansy’s clit, Pansy forgot the whole reason why Hermione’s ass was in her face. It took her a few seconds to pull Hermione’s hips down so she could lick distractedly at her pussy, so wet from just pleasuring Pansy for so long. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy came quickly, all it took was one particularly long and hard suck on her clit and a finger curling inside her and hitting her g-spot. Her entire body stiffened, the walls of her vagina clenching around Hermione’s finger, before she relaxed entirely, every muscle seeming to go slack. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laid there in post-orgasmic calm before Hermione shifted on top of her, straightening, and whispering hoarsely, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pansy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grabbing Hermione’s hips tightly, she pulled her back and starting to eat her enthusiastically, hoping to give Hermione even half as much pleasure that Pansy had received from her. Hermione’s hips moved back and forth fervently, fucking herself on Pansy’s tongue and eventually on two of her fingers while Pansy circled and teased her clit with her tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione let out a long loud moan and her whole body shook as her orgasm hit her. Her come coated Pansy chins, and she licked the salty-sweet of it into her mouth when Hermione climbed off her and laid down beside her on the bed, pressing lazy kisses to Pansy’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pansy turned to drape an arm and leg over Hermione, nestling her head in the crook of her neck. That was how they fell asleep, the room around them smelling like sex and sweat and their bodies loose with orgasm.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yay finally finished, hope ya like it and if ya did, leave a kudos or comment if you feel that vibe</p><p>ah and here is my inspo for the dress Hermione wears but just imagine a different neckline, kinda one of the straight off the shoulder necklines. i have no idea. i don't really wear dresses and try to avoid describing clothing at any cost: https://www.dhgate.com/product/2020-sexy-elegant-plus-size-yellow-ball-gown/546960252.html#redirect_detail=WAP2PC</p><p>once again, sorry this took so long to post :( I'll step my game up</p><p>oh and forgot to mention that this was my first time writing lesbian smut (a bit weird considering I'm a queer woman =, yet here I am, only having written mlm stuff) so tell me if its terrible</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ack, thank you so much if you managed to make it to the end of this. I really hope you liked it but no pressure if you didn't. Leave a kudos and comment maybe though?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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